


Damaged

by BlueAlmond



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, F/F, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Probably more stuff but, everyone is a disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-07-08 05:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 67,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15923513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueAlmond/pseuds/BlueAlmond
Summary: FBI agent Alexander Hamilton and his partner finally got something on the man they’ve been chasing for months but is not enough to get him arrested. They do, however, think they can get it if the escort that brought them the evidence is willing to go out with the mob boss a second time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I watch too many cop shows, please forgive any inaccuracies.

_It was cold, and he was on top of something soft. Was it fur, feathers? Some sort of animal, but he didn’t know. He tried to get up, but he couldn’t. His arms were shaking and there was something around his ankle, but it was too dark to see. He tried kicking and the hold only got tighter. He tried screaming, but he couldn’t. There was no sound coming out and then no air coming in and he, he…_

Aaron woke up with a start, heartrate accelerated and breaths shallow. Rubbing his face with a hand, he decided that to fall asleep to horror movies wasn’t a good idea. He checked the time in his phone and groaned. He wasn’t late, but he liked being early, and he’d need to hurry for that; he wouldn’t get the details of his job for the night until he checked in the agency, and he liked being prepared. Sure, if the job ended up being similar to the one he had the night before, he wouldn’t need much preparation, but he hoped it would be something at least slightly more entertaining than playing cards in a retire home. There weren’t many things he needed to take with him; his clothes for the night and whatever else he needed were in the agency. He just took a short shower and then grabbed his phone, wallet and keys, and left. His apartment was only fourteen blocks from the agency, and with New York’s traffic, many times he simply walked that distance, since he usually was early, but that day he took an Uber and then almost fell asleep.

“Hey, you look awful,” were the words of greetings from his co-worker.

He snorted. “Thanks, Maria.”

“Here,” she fished her make up bag out of her purse. “Let me fix those bags under your eyes.”

He sighed but smiled fondly and went to sit closer to her. “Whoever decided furry monsters were a good idea was wrong.”

“Oh, you watched ‘ _Yeti_ ’ last night? I didn’t dare,” she chuckled as she applied some foundation. “I changed the channel. Was it any good?”

“Well, considering I had a bad dream last night involving the damn thing, I guess they did their job. But no, it wasn’t really good, to be honest. I know for a thing I won’t be watching it again.”

“Hey, I’m never watching ‘ _Babadook_ ’ again and it’s a great movie.”

Aaron hummed. “We should get together one night to watch some horror movies.”

She nodded. “As soon as your day off coincides with mine. Or we could always get together after a job,” she winked. “The guy I’m seeing tonight shouldn’t keep me busy after midnight. Apparently, he has to go home early, or his wife will get mad.”

Aaron grimaced. “I don’t think you should go.”

She shrugged. “I already took the job, and men are always so easy to please. He might even ask for me again.”

“You can hardly stand _me_.”

Maria rolled her eyes. “I need the money, and women hardly hire other women for this sort of thing. He’s paying extra to get me a pretty dress and everything. He’s taking me to the casino.”

“You don’t like pretty dresses.”

“I do!”

“No, you only like them when other girls are wearing them.”

“Okay, that’s true. But hey, our sexuality shouldn’t influence what clients we can take. We’re not supposed to get involved. So really, it’s only logical I take male clients. It’s in fact better! Remember eight months ago when I was hired by that gorgeous CEO?”

“The ginger?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “She was gorgeous. I can’t have that. Falling for clients it’s no fun. I almost slept with her, you know?”

Aaron arched his eyebrows. “I thought you did.”

“Well, yes, but not until after the job was over. She dropped me off at the agency and everything, and _then_ we got together.”

Aaron shook his head. “If anybody heard you, you could get fired.”

“I know, but it’s only you and me in here, so I’m fine. And I will be fine tonight. I’m a great actress, this guy won’t ever notice how much I despise him.”

Aaron shouldn’t have worried so much about Maria. The one with a dangerous client that night wasn’t her.

It was him.

James Wilkinson was known for doing shady business. Owner of several nightclubs, which in turn were famous for being great places to get LSD and ecstasy. A night with a man like that surely would be more entertaining than the night before with seventy-four-year-old Mrs. M, but he wasn’t the kind of man that would hire Abigail’s agency, since she offered attractive companions for parties where conversation and dancing could be required, not sex. Her employees were actors, not prostitutes, and she made that difference clear. Still, he hired them anyway, and picked Aaron, who had no apparent reason to refuse. The man wasn’t even openly something other than straight, so maybe he really wasn’t interested in sex. He honestly didn’t think he’d be in any particular danger.

He definitely hadn’t been expecting to find himself in the middle of the planning of a homicide thirty minutes into the ‘ _date’_. The gangster thought he was being subtle, talking in metaphors and keeping a smile on his face and a hand crushing Aaron’s. For a moment, he hesitated and looked around their private area of the restaurant. The only other person nearby was the henchman intently listening to Wilkinson, who in turn seemed to be quite confident Aaron couldn’t understand—or mind—what was going on. But he was wrong, and Aaron very subtly was able of starting a video with his phone, his free hand did it mechanically under the table. He wasn’t thinking of what he would do with that information later, he just knew he couldn’t simply ignore it. Once Wilkinson sent his man away, he turned to face Aaron looking apologetic, and dropped a kiss on the knuckles of the hand he’d been possessively holding for the last twenty minutes.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay for dessert, sweetheart.”

If Aaron ever doubted Wilkinson was interested in men, he could safely conclude he was by the way he was eying him as if the dessert were him, and not the chocolate cake he had ordered. It didn’t make him more uncomfortable than most of his clients did, except he was pretty positive he just had told another person to kill someone, which was considerably more intimidating than the old lady trying to cheat in canasta and palming his thigh a little too often.

He texted Theodosia to see if he could go to her place after that, because he never had nightmares when he stayed there. He considered asking for her opinion on what he should do but decided he only would if things went a certain way. He wanted to get distracted for that night. Maybe he would tell her in the morning.

Maybe.

He got a text confirming her husband wouldn’t be back for at least another three days, and he took a cab to cover the sixteen blocks that separated her apartment from the restaurant. He smiled to the doorman who knew to never ask questions and then entered with his own key, which she had given him after the third time they met, four months ago.

“Hello dear,” she was lying on the couch with her laptop and a glass of wine on the center table. “How was your day?”

“Long.”

She smirked. “Come here then.”

“I brought chocolate cake,” he announced as he raised the bag next to his face before putting it down on the center table.

“Oh, that’s nice.” She stretched one arm to languidly pull him towards her by the collar of his shirt. “But I’d rather having you first.” He smiled and rested one knee on the couch by her side as he kissed her slowly.

He’d met Theodosia through a job. She’d hired him because she was going to watch a show on Broadway and didn’t want to go alone, and her husband who was supposed to go with her had to leave town for work. She’d considered bringing a friend—in fact, that’s what she told her husband she did—but she was curious about what an escort service really provided.

Abigail hadn’t liked her. When she hired Aaron a second time the next week, she advised him to say no, but he didn’t. He’d had a good time. Theodosia was beautiful, intelligent and witty like very few clients were, and when she made very clear what she wanted of him after dinner, he gave her his number and met her in a hotel not far from the agency after the ‘job’ was over. Ever since, they’d met periodically whenever her husband was away—which was pretty often. He was one of the two CEO’s of a big company and, though she claimed she still loved him, she said that after twelve years of marriage, she was quite bored. And well, Aaron soon discovered why. Theodosia was adventurous and dominant in bed, and while Aaron wasn’t willing to be led around easily, her husband did, and she missed a little challenge. She was also eleven years his senior and a tendency to remind him of it each time her husband was mentioned. She was always clear on how she only wanted to have fun with him but would never leave her husband and that was fine by Aaron. She was an interesting woman, but she was unreliable and cold. She didn’t love him, and Aaron wasn’t in love with her, but if he had to be honest, Aaron didn’t think he knew what love really was. He thought he loved Abigail and Maria, and he had loved his sister Sally, but the one time he tried having a serious relationship he didn’t know how, and it ended up badly and abruptly. He found very complicated to connect love and sex. It was easy to enjoy sex when there weren’t many feelings involved, but the minute they were…

He was fucked up and he knew it, but he didn’t much mind. He was fine the way things were, which was why it took him a while to decide what to do with the recording in his phone, but eventually he did. There wasn’t a choice, really. It was what he had to do, and he knew it. He had a legitimate job and had witnessed a crime—or the ordering of one—take place, so logically, he went to the police. Still, he never imagined the police would keep him in an interview room for _hours_. He’d arrived early for a reason—considering his line of work, his day hardly started before noon, so being there at nine in the morning was _early_ —but the detective smiled a little too much at him, left after they talked for like ten minutes and then didn’t come back.

Sure, he had no way of knowing said detective had ran to her superior and then that guy had called the FBI because the federal agents had requested any information regarding James Wilkinson was immediately handed to them, and phone calls with Special Agent Benjamin Franklin tended to be longer than necessary. Eventually, the man made his way to the desks of the agents that actually could do something with the information.

“Hamilton, Jefferson, we got something for your case,” said he, trying to act uninterested.

“What is it?”

“Somebody got Wilkinson on tape ordering a murder. The cops have him in an interview room in the 9-6.”

Alexander Hamilton grinned. That was the precinct closest to them. “Are you kidding?”

Franklin smirked. “Oh, and you’re going to love who this smart material witness is.”

Alexander frowned and shared a mildly concerned look with his partner. He cleared his throat as they stood up to follow the Special Agent. “Why?”

“Oh, he’s a lovely young man… and the circumstances which brought him so near Wilkinson while he orchestrated a hit on someone were, well, quite interesting.”

“Sir!”

“Oh, don’t be so boring,” the older man sighed heavily. “He’s an escort.”

“He? I didn’t know Wilkinson were gay.”

“Well, escorts aren’t prostitutes, you know.”

Alexander and Thomas rolled their eyes.

“Why the hell did he hire a male escort?”

Franklin shrugged. “We haven’t brought in Wilkinson yet, but maybe the young man that recorded the incriminating conversation with his phone will be able to tell us exactly what he was doing there.”

“I don’t particularly look forward to any details, sir,” said Thomas with a grimace. He then turned to his partner and said: “Can you do the interview?”

Alexander sighed. “Fine.” He had noticed Jefferson fidgeting with his phone all morning. He wasn’t going to ask what was wrong, they weren’t exactly friends, but he wouldn’t complain, even when he wasn’t happy to do it. He didn’t exactly have anything against sex workers. He had a problem with the industry itself, and with the consumers, because if they didn’t exist there wouldn’t be people getting exploited, but still, dealing with them wasn’t something he looked forward to. They were usually uncooperative, and that tended to piss him off.

The 9-6 precinct wasn’t far from the burau, so he walked there—ten am traffic in New York City wasn’t worth it for eight blocks. He then greeted everyone with a smile, and the rookie that had first spoken with the witness nervously led him to the interview room, talking the whole time.

“I remembered you guys made that huge scandal three weeks ago because that murder case took away your chance to finally bust Wilkinson so as soon as this guy mentioned him I thought to myself that this was it, you know? Like, this could be our symbolic apology but then again, it was a _murder_ ¸ we couldn’t just stop investigating.”

Alexander arched one eyebrow. “Just take me to the witness, please?” He wasn’t actually mad at the police officers—anymore. He’d been, three weeks ago, but now that was in the past and it was a nice gesture that they actually listened to their request.

“Sure,” she cleared her throat. “There he is.”

The guy sitting inside was gorgeous of course, which made sense given his line of work, and also kind of explained the detective’s wobbly voice. He nodded and finally stepped inside.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Burr. I was told you had a video for us.”

The escort narrowed his eyes, studying the man in a nice suit and prolix ponytail. “You’re not a cop.”

Alexander arched one eyebrow.

The escort took a deep breath and licked his lips. “I mean… this is clearly much bigger than what I thought and it’s a little intimidating. I can give you my phone, but I really don’t want to get more involved than that. Besides, there isn’t much I could tell you.”

“How about you start describing the scene? The video has no picture.”

“I had to keep it under the table. We were at a restaurant. _Saphira’s_ , and—”

“That’s a nice place.”

“Yes—”

“It has private quarters, doesn’t it?”

The escort seemed annoyed by Alexander’s interruptions. “Yes,” he admitted through gritted teeth.

Alexander smirked. “And you were in one of those.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, and what happened next?”

“Is this an interrogation?”

“I thought—”

“Because that’s what it feels like. I’ll tell you everything if you just stop interrupting me, Agent.”

Alexander narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t said he was FBI; did he really look that different from cops? How well did Mr. Burr know this precinct? He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, then nodded. “Please, continue.”

“We were eating when another man got in. I didn’t get a name, and I started he video almost as soon as they started talking. They left together immediately after.”

“Immediately? He didn’t even say goodbye?”

The escort rolled his eyes. “I stopped the recording, then the other man left and probably waited in the car while Wilkinson told me he had to leave. He didn’t tell me why. He just apologized and said he wouldn’t be back.”

“Did he at least get the check?”

“Is there anything you want to know, Agent? Because I’m afraid I don’t have anything else I can tell you. I started the video because I thought it was weird, but that was the first time I saw the guy.”

“You just thought it was weird.”

“You wouldn’t have? The other man looked like the caricature of a gangster.”

Alexander shrugged. “I don’t know what your clients usually do, Mr. Burr. I can’t know what you would consider weird.”

“The night before my job consisted of playing canasta with a lonely grandmother for three hours. _She_ was a normal client, not Wilkinson.”

Alexander blinked, taken aback. “Huh. Okay.” He cleared his throat. “So there’s nothing else you can give us?”

The escort glared. “No.”

Alexander nodded. “Very well, then you’ll just have to fill in a few forms and you’ll be free to go.” He exited the room having decided that someone else could deal with the guy, and the female cop waiting outside didn’t seem to have a problem with it.

The ADA’s face, however, wasn’t exactly encouraging.

“The recording will only be useful if we get something else. We cannot arrest him just with this,” said he, looking angrier than apologetic.

“Goddamn it!” Alexander ran a hand through his hair and paced around the room, not knowing who exactly the target of his anger should be, but the world as a whole looked like a nice candidate.

His partner was just as frustrated, but by quite a different situation. The principal in his kids’ school was glaring at him again, but he ignored her. He knew. He was pissed at himself too, but her dark looks weren’t helping. It was only eleven in the morning, but they all agreed it was best if he simply took Patsy home. Sure, he still was supposed to go back to work and he lived far away from any relative that could take her, but school authorities didn’t care about _that_ , they cared about the other angry parent that was threatening with suing, which was really ridiculous; her kid was okay. He planted his no-nonsense face and nodded accordingly but didn’t chastise Patsy in front of the three angry adults. He simply put a hand on her shoulder and asked if she had all her things, and after she nodded, they left. It wasn’t until he’d been driving for a while that he stretched an arm to turn off the radio and cleared his throat. He didn’t yell; he wasn’t angry. He was just tired and concerned.

“Patsy come on, what the hell happened? This is the third time this month that your teacher has to call me, and it’s only been escalating. That other kid could’ve needed stitches, Pats! He almost hit his head with the table, and it would’ve been your fault.”

The eleven-year-old shrugged and kept looking out the window.

“Patsy, please. Talk to me.”

She didn’t.

“Alright,” he nodded. “Then it’s settled. You may not talk to me, but you have to talk to _someone_. I’m taking you to a therapist tomorrow.”

“What?” she turned her head abruptly, but Thomas kept staring at the road. He could tell she was glaring anyway.

“Hey, look at that, your voice is still working. Great. That’ll make the guy’s work easier.”

“I don’t need to see a shrink!”

“Honestly, I didn’t think that either, but your behavior is not exactly cooperating here, dear!” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “It doesn’t have to be bad. It doesn’t mean you’re crazy. Just… look, all he’s going to do is be there and listen, right? It can’t be so bad.”

“You hate shrinks.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t _hate_ them. I just think they’re pretty useless. I mean, you pay them a lot of money for them to simply listen and tell you stuff anybody else without a degree could’ve told you. _But_ ,” he used the red light to turn and glare at his daughter, “if you’re not talking to anybody else, then maybe this _professional_ will be able to get you to do it. I don’t know.”

“It’s been two years. I’m _fine_.”

“Whoever said it had to do with that? I certainly didn’t, since you’re not telling me anything. It could be anything, a girl, a boy, a dog, a teacher, _I don’t know_ , and that’s why is so scary.”

She gulped. “You’re scared?”

“I’m terrified, Pats. I’m sorry. I know I’m doing a lousy job here but,” he licked his lips and released a watery chuckle, “I’m trying, I really am.”

“Jesus, dad, I…” she blinked several times, very fast, and took a deep breath, “you’re not doing a bad job, dad.”

He snorted as he parked outside their house. “Yeah, right.”

She shook her head and grabbed his hand. “You’re amazing, dad. Really. I just… I can’t tell you what’s wrong, because I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

He was sorry. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, squeezing her hand tenderly. “Don’t apologize _to me_. Whatever did the poor bastard do to earn that push?”

She rolled her eyes and unbuckled her seatbelt. “I merely _pushed_ him, and everyone’s acting like I threatened to kill him.”

“You kind of said something among those lines, didn’t you?”

“I was only scaring him. And I didn’t use that word. I think.”

He chuckled. “Patsy, that’s serious. Did he deserve it?”

She pursed her lips and hummed while he opened the door. Once inside, she dropped her backpack on the floor in her way to the kitchen where she took two glasses from a cabinet and poured orange juice in them. “I think he did. I mean, he was being an idiot. Oh, we ran out of peanut butter.”

“I’ll get some later,” he took a sip of the second glass. “I can’t tell you that physical violence is okay, dear. You should’ve told someone.”

“Yes, I know. But I didn’t. And he’s okay.”

“That doesn’t make it better. In fact, you only made it worse because now nobody cares what he was doing to get hurt in the first place.”

“You do.”

“Yes, because that’s part of my job. I’m used to looking at motives and stuff, but a lot of people don’t do it. They don’t stop for a minute to consider that reactions are precisely a response to something. Still, when a reaction is disproportionate to the action that caused it, the person who reacted is still sanctioned. You haven’t done a compelling case, so based on the lack of evidence you’re forcing me to conclude that your reaction was disproportionate and ought to be punished.”

She gasped. “But dad—”

“And I guess missing school for the rest of the day, _and_ tomorrow since you’re going to see a therapist which I can’t imagine will be a pleasant experience, is enough of a punishment. Now finish your glass and go to your room where I can’t see you having fun while grounded.”

She bit her bottom lip, but her shoulders still shook with her muffled laughter. She nodded and did as he told her, dropping a kiss on his cheek on her way up, and Thomas sighed. He thought he had great kids, but he couldn’t ignore that Patsy was going through some sharp changes in her behavior that could or could not be a sign of something bigger going on. He scratched the top of his head and wished Martha was there. She probably would’ve known exactly what was going on and how to handle it, but she wasn’t there, and she couldn’t tell him what to do. He too finished his juice and washed both glasses absentmindedly, trying to come up with an idea to get back to work without getting a babysitter. He would need to go pick up Mary from kindergarten in less than three hours anyway.

He got an idea, turned on his laptop in his study and texted his partner while he waited for it to start. Hamilton had already called him to let him know the recording while useful wasn’t enough to arrest Wilkinson which meant they were back at the start. They’d been trying to tie the guy down to a much larger traffic net in the last seven months but didn’t have much luck. He loved to talk so they were more than certain that he was guilty, but he was surrounded by capable henchmen that covered his tracks pretty well. The fact that they’d managed to get such a conversation on tape was amazing enough, but that could also mean the escort was in fact a loose end that would later need to be cut. The first thing he did was checking on the Agency’s web site, and later the specific escort’s profile. The page had a very sophisticated air, and so did Aaron Burr, in his impeccable suit with an enigmatic smile and pretty eyes, and the list of his attributes was quite impressive too. Thomas snorted, though. The guy supposedly spoke seven languages. What was he doing in an escort agency? He figured they paid more than the tourism and literary industry, but he was sure most people weren’t looking for a translator when they entered such a site.

He then called the girl they had undercover working in one of Wilkinson’s nightclubs and asked if she knew anything about him hiring an escort and was surprised with all the information she had. In the three months Adrienne had been working there, she hadn’t gotten a useful thing about the heroin, not even about his tax evasion, but about his date from the day before and what he intended to do on the second one? Well…

“Hey Hamilton. Did you know he’s hiring him again for a second date?”

“ _What?_ ” Hamilton barked through the phone, and Thomas decided to hold it slightly further from his ear. “ _Burr didn’t mention such a thing!_ ”

“Maybe he doesn’t know. Wilkinson’s assistant is supposed to make the reservation today, they probably haven’t done it yet and the guy was in the precinct all morning.”

Hamilton hummed. “ _Whatever. Can you go to the agency to check when that second is going to be, and see if he’s willing to be wired?_ ”

Jefferson checked the time in his laptop. “Sure. I’ll go there right now.”

“ _Cool._ ”

He collected all his stuff and went to check on his daughter. “Hey Pats?”

“You need to work?”

He nodded. “It shouldn’t take me long, but I really don’t want to leave you here by yourself. What would you rather do?”

She straightened and closed her laptop, humming. “I guess I could go to Molly’s.”

“Alright.”

Molly Hemmings’s place wasn’t far, and he figured he had time still to get to the agency and meet with his partner before he had to go pick up Mary.

At the end, by the time he met with his partner, he still had two hours. He was definitely longer in the car, and judging by his partner’s face, he hadn’t been expecting him to be back so soon either.

“How did it go?” asked Hamilton with a wary look.

Jefferson grimaced.

“What? He doesn’t want to wear a mic? I’m sure we could try to convince him, I mean…”

Thomas raised a pacifying hand and shook his hand. “Trying to convince him of wearing a mic is not going to get us anywhere, because he’s not even willing to go.”

“What?”

“He’s not taking the client.”

A thing Thomas Jefferson always disliked about his partner was how expressive his face was. He could read his every thought from where he was standing, and that had nothing to do with the time they’d spent getting to know each other. However, guessing what he would do next was something only someone who knew the guy could do, because no one else was that bold—or stupid. He considered, for a minute, stopping him. But he also knew there would be no point in trying so he simply sighed and went to see what else he could do before he had to go for Mary while his partner stomped off the building.

To Alexander, finding Aaron Burr halfway to the place he thought he would find him was like a sign though he didn’t know of what. He still went and sat in front of him in the nice café he’d been having lunch by himself and offered him his finest smile. “Hey, Mr. Burr! Mr. Burr, remember me? I’m—”

“You’re the guy that interrogated me this morning without introducing himself first, of course.”

Alexander rolled his eyes and extended a hand. “Agent Alexander Hamilton. May I know why you’ve refused that second date with Wilkinson?”

The escort arched one eyebrow and put his fork down. “Why should I? We’re strongly suggested to avoid repeating clients. It’s usually not safe, and in this case, that’s kind of an understatement.”

Alexander ran a hand through his hair. “Sure, I get it.” He waved a hand to tell the waitress to stay away from their table and then leaned forward. “But this could be useful for the investigation, you know?”

“Why? If you want to get information, put one of your guys undercover. Solving your case is not my responsibility.”

“He’s paying a lot of money just to have you again. He wants _you_. I imagine it has a lot to do with how abruptly your last encounter ended. I mean, he paid for three hours and only got forty minutes.”

“That was his problem. He had to leave.”

“Yeah, but he wants to finish the date. You can’t blame him for that. With the amount he’s paying, your agency probably wants you to do it too. If you use a mic, if you help us, we’ll help you, we’ll protect you.”

“There is nothing to finish, and there are no refunds.”

“Dude,” Alexander was getting so frustrated he was losing all professionalism. “You know what the guy wants.”

“Our agency does not provide those services,” replied Aaron with a cold glare.

“Sure, but some guys just don’t buy it. Even if it’s on the contract, he probably still intends to get it.”

Aaron crossed his arms over his chest. “Well that’s not going to happen. Give me one good reason to do this for you.”

Alexander bit his bottom lip. He had a dozen at the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t sure escort Aaron Burr would be moved by any of those. “Please?”

Aaron had known that was the reason Wilkinson had hired him again, as well as the fact that he probably wanted to make sure Aaron hadn’t noticed anything. He wasn’t stupid. Still, the agent implying it had angered him. He knew a lot of people didn’t believe it, but he wasn’t a sex worker, and he had gone through a lot to be able to say that sincerely. It was something he took pride in, and not because of the nature of the job, but because he’d kept his word and hadn’t given in when it would’ve been so much easier and profitable at one point. Also, he owed it to Abigail. She had given him so much, and she was vehemently against it. She said her business was the one of company, because human beings were inherently social, and everybody should be able to have some conversation and the simple presence of someone else. If for some reason they couldn’t get it for free, then she could lend it to them for a reasonable price, but she didn’t sell sex. No one was entitled to sex, and her employees weren’t hers to offer in such a way. She was not a pimp, and whenever someone doubted the lengths of his work, they doubted her and that angered Aaron. He was usually a very patient, very calm person, but he would be the first one to admit that when he got angry, he wasn’t nice—as opposed to ninety-nine percent of the time—and things that normally wouldn’t bother him, irritated him. He smirked ruefully at the agent and said: “No.”

And then, he left. He had finished most of his lunch anyway, and apparently he had already paid because when he nodded to the waitress she said goodbye to him with a huge beam.

Agent Hamilton ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, and went to meet his boss. He didn’t much like the guy most of the time, but he never hesitated to go to him when presented with a problem or an uncooperative person of interest. Special Agent in Charge John Adams was probably as persistent and annoying as himself, which might explain why they simply couldn’t stand being in the same room for too long. It was a good thing his partner had a far friendlier relationship with him, but his partner hadn’t talked to Burr, he had, and so he was the one who had to go and say: “He’s not going, sir.”

“Bullshit,” growled SAC Adams. “Which agency is this? Let’s talk to his boss.”

At first that sounded like a great idea, which really only meant they’d never met Abigail Smith before. In her area of business, she was famous for how protective she was of her workers, and how ruthless she was to pretty much everybody else. Always polite and with a smile on her face, there wasn’t a person on earth who could get her to do something she didn’t want to do.

Forty minutes later, Adams, Jefferson and Hamilton were realizing that as they stood in front of her and Aaron Burr and nothing they said got a reaction out of her.

“Ma’am, you have to understand—”

“If it’s dangerous then there’s no way he’s going,” said Abigail, placing one hand on her hip.

“It’s not _dangerous_. He didn’t notice he recorded everything. He couldn’t. If he had, he would’ve sent someone after him, or he would’ve offered him money for his silence,” said Jefferson.

“Or he didn’t know at first. Maybe he found out later and knows he talked to the feds, so this is his way of sending a message and get rid of him.”

“Yeah, that’s another possibility.”

Adams shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t go to such risks.”

“We won’t wire you,” said Alexander, drawing all looks to him.

“What? This is a golden chance to—”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, if we wire him, they could discover it and it would all go to hell. If they suspect, they’re going to check. If he goes as if it were a normal job, it would convince them that he didn’t notice anything, and he might even hire you again.”

“Is that likely?”

Adams narrowed his eyes and asked Abigail: “In your line of work, how often do these sorts of men ask for the same person again?”

Abigail stared at Aaron for a moment with her lips pursed before looking back at the special agent. “They usually do, but we have a policy of no more than five encounters per year. We hardly have to go as far as to ban a client, really. The average client uses our services for very specific occasions, but these sorts of men aren’t like our average client. They’re the type of person that reach our limit within two months, usually less.

Adams nodded. “Then let’s do that.”

Jefferson huffed. “We can’t just miss our chance hoping he’ll get hired again!”

“If he asks for someone else next time, you use a goddamn agent,” replied Abigail fiercely. “You’re the ones asking for favors here, not us.”

She was right, though the feds didn’t feel too eager to acknowledge it. As they were leaving, Aaron tapped Agent Hamilton in the shoulder and gave him a tiny but sincere smile. “Thank you,” said he.

Alexander scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “You’re welcome, but I was only doing my job. Using a wire right away wouldn’t have been smart. Just, make sure he hires you again, okay?”

Aaron’s gentle features turned cold. “I will do my job, agent.”

The agent nodded and turned around to leave, and Aaron for some reason couldn’t seem to look away. Agent Hamilton simply got on his nerves. He sighed, and then went to get ready for his job of the day—a cocktail birthday party at four, where he would accompany a seventy-three-year-old widow that wanted to make her sister jealous.

Five days later, sitting in the restaurant with James Wilkinson holding his hand again, he considered screwing up. He considered being rude or uninterested or too interested, just so he could get out of that mess, but he couldn’t be sure it would work. Wilkinson was a powerful, dangerous man, and there was no way of knowing what he could consider an offense big enough to earn a significant punishment. He was terrified, so really, his best shot was to do exactly what he did best.

He charmed him.

After a few minutes he could tell that no matter what he asked, Wilkinson would get it for him. All he had to do was smile, listen, and sit close. Wilkinson didn’t even need him to answer.

He finally had dropped Aaron’s hand so they both could eat, but while they waited for the main course, Wilkinson asked: “Can I get a kiss this time?”

Aaron shook his head with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but you know that’s against the rules.”

“No one needs to know.”

“They always find out. I could lose my job.”

“That’s okay. I’ll take care of you. Just give me one short kiss and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

They always said that, and some of them even meant it. Aaron didn’t care.

“Besides, do you honestly believe they’d fire you? You’re so gorgeous I’m sure you bring them billions, sweetheart.”

If Abigail ever believed him capable of sleeping with a client she would never speak to him again. He roamed a finger over the back of Wilkinson’s hand, circling each knuckle slowly. That man had punched many things in his life. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wilkinson.”

“At least call me James.”

Aaron smiled playfully and was careful to stare right at his eyes as he said: “Okay, James.”

Oh, agent Hamilton had been right with no doubt. Wilkinson wanted to fuck him, and he wouldn’t stop hiring him until he did, and probably wouldn’t even stop then. He was one of those clients that ended up with restraining orders.

“Let me get you an apartment downtown, near my office. You’re going to love it.”

Where Wilkinson would be able to make time every day for a quickie? Not going to happen. He shook his head but grabbed his hand and squeezed softly. He’d known it would be a long night, but maybe that was a good thing. If he got really tired, he might not dream.

Dreams always had an impact, even when you couldn’t tell what they meant. Aaron usually could, though, but a lot of people didn’t. Discussing your dreams out loud sometimes helped, but it could be embarrassing too, and when one is shy or private, it isn’t an easy endeavor. Still, when children, teenagers and young adults-oriented Psychiatrist James Madison asked Patsy about her dreams and what kept her up at night, she tried to tell him. She tried to be as clear as she could with the man because for some reason, she trusted him. His low, deep voice and tender smile always managed to make the room more welcoming, and the way he never pushed and kept his distance was exactly what she needed to not feel pressured into saying things she didn’t want to share. She told him because he was there, not because he was asking, and that made a big difference. It was also important that, no matter what she told him, there was no direct impact on her life. No one was looking at her or treating her differently, and Doctor Madison certainly wasn’t. Whenever she mentioned her mother and how she missed her, Doctor Madison never seemed affected by her words in the way she knew her father would be. It was relieving, and she told her father as much, which she could tell was relieving to him as well.

Thomas Jefferson’s world had reduced considerably after Martha’s death. Most of the people they’d met as a couple had been her friends and not really his, so though not abruptly, he stopped meeting with them. His job demanded a lot of his time, and so did his girls, but he thought he was doing okay.  As long as his daughters were smiling, and he was doing his job well, Thomas would be okay. And if he woke up tossing and turning in bed most nights, well, it was difficult to get used to sleeping alone again after almost thirteen years of sharing it with the human equivalent of an octopus. Days were always easier because there were things forcing you to stay on the present, but at night… memories come at night. Memories and feelings and just too many things Thomas didn’t have time to handle. But really, who had it? Once you reached adulthood and responsibilities there simply was no time for that. Maybe a healthier person would argue that one should make the time to solve all inner turmoil, but health and balance were starting to sound like a luxury nowadays.

That Thursday, when the sun went down, it wasn’t any different from usual.

֍

_His wrists ached. There was a fist closed around it, and it ached. He tried to look around, but it was too dark. If he focused, he could make the outline of a door. There was light at the other side of the door. Somebody opened it, brusquely._

_Their waitress did. She brought them drinks and nothing more, but the room wasn’t as dark anymore. Wilkinson’s hand was still around his wrist, and he couldn’t move it. Then Wilkinson’s other hand made his way to his thigh, and he shivered. He should kick him, but there wasn’t enough room for it. Then their waitress laughed, and when he checked again, the hand around his wrist wasn’t Wilkinson’s anymore, it was hers. She wasn’t a stranger, and she was dragging him around, but his legs felt heavy. He tried to ask her to slow down, but she wasn’t listening. She was talking about her husband and wouldn’t even let him rest against a wall in the elevator. He only noticed there had been music when it stopped, replaced by a loud, frightening and repetitive ring._

He woke up and noticed he’d been sleeping crushing his hand, and it ached. He groaned and kneaded it. His alarm was ringing loudly but it was on the bedside table of his bad hand, so it took him longer than necessary to finally turn it off.

Later that day Abigail called him to his office which in itself wasn’t so weird. They were close, had been ever since he asked her for a job over eight years ago, and she was even more protective of him than she was of other workers. He too cared about her. After all, she was the only person that knew everything about him, and had been for a while.

“He asked for you again,” she told him the moment he entered, as she poured water in two glasses, “for next Thursday. I haven’t told the FBI yet. I want to hear your stance on this first.”

Aaron shrugged and took a sip of the glass she offered him. “He wants to fuck me. Last night he begged me for a kiss for an hour,” he sat in front of her, “offered me an apartment and all.”

Abigail groaned and rubbed her forehead. “It’s okay if you want out. You and I know these sorts of men are dangerous. They can’t force you to help.”

Aaron sighed and threw his head back. He liked Abigail’s ceiling. It was tall, in a darker red than the walls. “I know, but if I help, this guy could get locked up.”

“And he might want to get back at you.”

“He doesn’t have to know I’m helping.”

“Aaron…” she bit her bottom lip, “just, be careful. Please. You’re talking about a third date here. He might stop begging.”

“Well, tell the feds that.”

Abigail hummed. “I might do just that.” She intended calling that Mr. Adams one of these days anyway. He was a funny little man, and she would like to buy him dinner some time. But she knew she would have to tell the other agents first, which was a far more tiring prospect. She dismissed Aaron first, downed her water, and got some whiskey. Aaron never drank, but she felt more like his mother whenever she got him water and something else for herself, so the alcohol could wait until he was gone. It was good enough that she was able of drinking in her job.

Other people weren’t as lucky, even when sometimes they felt like alcohol was the only thing that could keep them going. That wasn’t Alexander’s case though. He liked drinking from time to time, but his diet consisted mostly of coffee and sugar in the form of chocolates and other snacks. His partner usually complained about it, but he was the first to ask him for a snack after long hours of work, since he knew Alexander kept all sorts of trash in his messy desk.

Sometimes there wasn’t even necessary for it to be a long day. One of the few things they had in common was that when stressed, they consumed sugar like air. That morning found them with already a dozen of candy bar wrappers on top of their desks.

“Has he done anything?” asked Alexander. “Do we not know anything yet?”

Thomas sighed. “The _date_ was last night, he’s not going to—”

He was interrupted by the phone ringing. Alexander picked it up.

“ _You told me to inform you as soon as Wilkinson made another reservation._ ”

“Yes?”

“ _Well he made another one for this Thursday, and he asked for Aaron again._ ”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“ _I’ll email you the details in a moment._ ”

Alexander nodded and felt silly for doing so since she couldn’t see him. “Thank you.” The woman hung up, and he turned to face Jefferson with a bright beam. “He did it. He hired Burr again. She’ll email me the details now.”

“Damn, the guy surely is obsessed. He didn’t even wait a day, or a decent hour to make another reservation?” He shook his head. “Perhaps if he lets him fuck him, we could finally get something on the guy we could use.”

“He’s not one of our agents, Jefferson. We can’t ask him such a thing!” They wouldn’t ask an agent either but, well. Jefferson might.

“That’s literally his job.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Ham—”

“It’s not, Jefferson!”

“Why are you being so defensive of him all of a sudden?”

Alexander blushed, and his partner narrowed his eyes.

“Hamilton?”

“I just made a quick search to make sure he wasn’t lying to us or working with Wilkinson.”

“What did you find?”

Alexander shrugged. “His life hasn’t been easy.”

“No shit,” Jefferson rolled his eyes. “A sex worker’s life hasn’t been easy?”

“He’s not a sex worker,” growled Alexander.

“He’s basically the same thing! And the people that end up in that kind of jobs most definitely have had fucked up lives. I get it. I’m not that much of an asshole,” he sighed and scratched the top of his head. “What did you find?” He groaned. “You found some sort of sexual abuse, didn’t you? Okay, we’re not going to suggest him to sleep with Wilkinson.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at his ankles. “Shit.”

Hamilton nodded. Finding anything on the guy hadn’t been easy at first; everything had been buried. But once he did, he discovered he had a lot to read, and he hadn’t liked it one bit. All the charges had been dropped, but that always happened with those powerful guys. He refreshed the page and cheered. He had a new email. “Okay, I got the details of the thing.”

Jefferson nodded and brought his chair closer to Alexander’s desk. “And?”

“According to this, we’d need to meet with Burr in the agency this Thursday at six to get everything ready. Wilkinson will go for him at eight.”

“Fuck, I… I have a thing.”

Alexander turned to stare at him abruptly. His partner wasn’t the kind of person to simply skip his job. In the four years they had been partners, he didn’t think he’d ever had, except for, well, the logical exceptions from two years ago. He sighed. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Thomas ran a hand through his hair. “Patsy is seeing a therapist and I’m supposed to meet with the guy this Thursday at four.”

Alexander frowned. “Is she okay?”

“She’s…” he swallowed. “I don’t know how she is, because she won’t tell me. At home she seems fine, but at school she, she’s not doing as well and doesn’t care either. She had her first session the other day and apparently it went fine, but…” he shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know that I shouldn’t miss it.”

“Of course not,” he rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry. Go to your thing.”

“It might take me hours and…”

“And you’re not going to leave Patsy alone after. You probably will have some stuff to talk about, I get it. Hey, I…” he sighed, “I do, I get it.”

Thomas blinked, and felt like an idiot. “Yeah, you do, don’t you?” he rubbed the back of his neck and kicked the floor to push his chair back to his own desk. “Thanks, man.”

Alexander shook his head. “Don’t mention it.” He could understand at least a fraction of what Patsy was going through, after all. Their circumstances were only similar in theory, really, but losing a parent was always groundbreaking, and he’d been only slightly older when his mother passed. He was just glad Patsy hadn’t needed to move to another house and change schools and all those other nasty things he had to do. He didn’t wish that on anyone. Extreme changes like that are more than overwhelming—the shrink he’d seen in high school had been amazed he hadn’t developed aversion to change on some level. But he didn’t. He welcomed change, most of the time. He understood that it was always coming. Sure, he would love some stability, but he knew the less things he got used to the less it would hurt when he eventually lost them. And maybe that had a lot to do with him not being able—not _daring_ —to keep a relationship for very long, and maybe he was a bit touch-starved, but he was good at his job and that was all he needed. Of course, he never voiced that thought. If he had, or if his partner did, maybe one of them would realize that perhaps, that way of thinking wasn’t right. Humans were designed to focus on more than one aspect, but sometimes that was hard. Sometimes, one aspect was so large, it ended up drowning the rest.

And sometimes, one was large enough that making the excuse of it drowning the rest was too easy, even when it wasn’t true. Now in their defense, a lot of people did that, even those that were professionals in mental health. It helped that it wasn’t easy to notice the difference between a person that got a lot of work and a person that looked for a lot of work. Thomas considered himself a good interpreter when it came to people, but from time to time there came some that could fool him.

Doctor James Madison was exactly what Thomas had been expecting, and then he wasn’t like that at all. He was a good listener, but he was quite talkative as well. He dressed like the caricature of an old man, but was handsome, and looked good. But moreover, he was kind. Thomas liked kind people, probably because he didn’t think he was very kind himself. He tried to be, but it didn’t come naturally to him like it did to some people.

Martha had been kind. That was probably what captivated him since day one. He stopped that train of thought and focused on his daughter.

“Can we go to the cemetery this weekend, dad?” asked Patsy in their way back home from Doctor Madison’s office. That was probably the first time _ever_ she had asked that.

Thomas nodded. “Of course, dear. Before or after lunch?”

“When you can.”

He started picking her up after every session. If she thought that was weird, she didn’t say, though she had a tendency of arching her eyebrows whenever he talked to Doctor Madison—which was quite often.

Usually, just as Patsy was going out, Doctor Madison would stop Thomas by saying: “Mr. Jefferson.”

And Thomas would turn with arched eyebrows and ask: “Yes?”

Then the psychiatrist would say, with his low voice and tender smile: “You’re doing a good job. Really.”

And Thomas would _beam_. “Thank you, doctor.”

Sometimes that would be it. Sometimes there would be more. And of course, they had exchanged phone numbers and soon there was also texting, which involved a lot more—boring—jokes than what Thomas would’ve imagined, and a lot more emojis.

And maybe Patsy hadn’t been the only one stepping on eggshells for the last two years. Maybe Thomas too had needed some help. Maybe he’d been a little rougher, a little meaner, a little angrier and a little lost. Maybe the sun hadn’t felt so hot, the water hadn’t been as fresh, and the spring’s breeze had been more of a smack than a gentle caress, like it used to be. He still missed Martha, but little by little, her absence hurt a little less, and smiling wasn’t so difficult.

But whereas Thomas was feeling better, Aaron certainly wasn’t. He was used to keeping his issues to himself, he was a good actor, but the more the date with Wilkinson approached, the harder it was to stay still.

Earlier on Thursday, while getting ready before the cops arrived, Maria bit her bottom lip and placed her hands on her hips. “What’s got you so stressed? Is it the gangster? Aaron, you can say no. Abigail fucking wants you to say no.”

“I know, but…” he shook his head. “I can’t.” He wanted to say no. Of course he wanted to say no, but it was too late.

He texted Theodosia to try to get distracted, but she was busy. She had told him she was always busy the second half of April because her husband tried to take some time away from the office for a couple of weeks for his birthday, but he hadn’t really expected her to completely disappear. At the end, Maria stayed with him until it was time to leave. She even stayed there while the feds wired him and all, which he thanked her for because otherwise it would’ve been a lot more awkward.

“We’ll be very near,” informed him Agent Hamilton. “We’ll be listening, waiting for him to give enough incriminating information, anything bad enough to guarantee an arrest, and we’ll get in, okay?”

“So he’ll definitely realize it was me who ratted him out.”

“Well,” Hamilton grimaced, “we’ll try not to, but… he might deduce it.”

Aaron snorted.

Jefferson crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. “We’ll do our best, Mr. Burr. And if he threatens your life, we’ll take care of it too. Don’t worry.”

Aaron exchanged a look with Maria and barely contained their laughter. “Okay,” he stood up. “Wish me luck.”

Maria hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek. “Good luck.”

Wilkinson’s car was parked outside, and as he walked there he imagined he was feeling the way people with death sentences did. A driver opened his door, and Wilkinson was waiting inside with a wicked smile. Aaron’s forced one seemed to be enough to satisfy him, because the first words he said were: “Hello there, gorgeous. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Aaron was happy that would be the last time he’d have to see him. Out loud he said: “Always,” and Wilkinson laughed, delighted.

He wished he could look out the window, but Wilkinson had ordered since the first date that he wanted Aaron’s eyes on him the whole time, which wasn’t that uncommon when it came to narcissists like him. Unfortunately, having to look at Wilkinson at all times meant he never knew where they were going. When the car stopped, he didn’t need to look outside to know where they were, though. He kept a smile on his face anyway, and turned to Wilkinson with confusion the moment the man stepped outside.

“This is a hotel,” he said with a slight frown.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Wilkinson—”

“I told you to call me James, didn’t I?”

Aaron swallowed. “Yes. I apologize.”

“We’re just going to eat here, come on.”

Aaron had a bad feeling about it all, but he couldn’t exactly complain. The last thing he needed was for that date to go south, not when he had a mic on him. He downed his glass of water in one go, and in a matter of seconds, his world went black.

In the van, the federals heard a weird thump, and Aaron’s breathing turning slightly slower.

“Something’s not right,” said Hamilton.

Jefferson narrowed his eyes and raised a hand. “Hold up…”

“Jefferson—”

“ _What do you want us to do, boss?_ ”

Hamilton paled.

“ _Sir, the Dobermann is already waiting for you at the docks._ ”

“ _Tell him to wait! And take him to my room._ _I’ve been waiting for two weeks for this. The deal with Dobermann can wait. All that heroin is not going to go anywhere._ ”

“Okay, that’s enough. That’s got to be enough, right? Come on, Jefferson, we got to hurry.”

“Hamilton, calm down. We know what his room is, we can get there in time…”

“In time for what? They must have drugged him or something. He clearly is unconscious!”

Jefferson rubbed his jaw and didn’t answer. He knew they could get a little more, but he let Hamilton get everyone ready to go up.

When Aaron woke up, he wasn’t sure what was going on, but the feeling in his wrists was familiar.

“Well, are you waking up, sweetheart?”

Aaron wanted to throw up. He swallowed and tried to sit straighter, but it was difficult to move at all with his arms stretched over his head, and his legs felt heavy and unresponsive, probably due to whatever thing they’d given him to sleep him.

“Calm down.” Wilkinson walked to the bed but didn’t touch him. “I’ll untie you later. I just want us to have a great time.” He kneeled and grabbed Aaron’s ankles, spreading his legs. Aaron wanted to kick him, but his legs weren’t responding. “And this way if your boss finds out, you can tell her you really tried to say no,” he smirked and crawled upwards, clearly intending to kiss him. So, Aaron smacked him with the top of his head in his chin as hard as he could.

Wilkinson roared in pain and stood up. “You little shit! I swear I’ll—” He was interrupted by the loud slam of the door against the wall and several officers getting in.

“Finish that sentence, go on, you’re going to prison anyway,” said one of the two men wearing suits.

The other one, Agent Hamilton, hurried to Aaron’s side to free him. “You’re okay,” he muttered, “you’re okay, and you did great. You hear me? You did great. Wilkinson confessed a lot of shit while you were unconscious, and we got everything on tape. We cannot thank you enough.”

Aaron nodded jerkily and rubbed his wrists.

Alexander bit his bottom lip and looked around. They were all alone in the room, everyone else was busy trying to get Wilkinson and his henchmen downstairs, and Aaron didn’t seem physically hurt, so maybe they could skip the ambulance.

“Come on, it’s getting cold here. Would you like some hot chocolate?”

Aaron finally raised his eyes to meet his.

Alexander shrugged. “I’d offer you coffee but I’m trying to drink less. Not that you can’t drink it, but I’ll be having chocolate,” he cleared his throat. “Okay?”

Aaron frowned. “Why?”

“What do you mean _why_? It’s cold.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Come on.”

Aaron licked his lips and stood up. The agent was being oddly nice, but he really could use some ‘nice’ right then, and so, he went.

“The drug they used on you should get out of your system soon. They gave you a small dose so you would wake up soon,” he cleared his throat. He had made sure the waiter who’d put it in his glass told them everything he knew about it. “Uh, you can walk and everything, right?”

Aaron nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Are you sure? I can call an ambulance if you want. I mean, we’re supposed to cover everything if you got hurt during this operation, so…” he shrugged.

“Thank you, but I’m okay.” His wrists ached, and his legs were a little shaky, but he didn’t think that was something a doctor could help him with. A shrink had already tried, and it didn’t work.

Agent Hamilton drove them to a nice café not far from there and really order a hot chocolate for himself. He made an amusing picture. Aaron didn’t dare though. He just got coffee.

“We really can’t thank you enough for what you did today, Mr. Burr.”

He shook his head. “I just went to work.”

“No. I know that if it hadn’t been for the case you wouldn’t have taken it. Your life was at risk tonight, so really… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The agent seemed genuinely happy with that answer, which was disconcerting to Aaron. Then, a group of college students passed arguing loudly next to them about the tributary reform that was currently in congress, and the agent snorted.

Aaron arched one eyebrow.

Agent Hamilton shook his head. “It’s just that, they’re supposed to know that’s bullshit. I mean, if they were teenagers I wouldn’t mind but people in their twenties really should know how that works, right? Uh, no, wait, I mean—”

“I agree with you,” said Aaron before taking a long sip of his coffee. “I swear it’s like they don’t even know how taxes work.”

“Yes!” the agent looked a lot younger when he was excited. He leaned forward on the table and started a conversation on the subject that apparently the escort knew well. Before he knew it, they’ve gotten two refills, ordered food and started eating, and were still having an interesting discussion on the government, the country’s financial situation and the consequences of Brexit in Europe.

Alexander was surprised, but maybe he shouldn’t have been. He knew people in that sort of work had to be smart, but it was a different sort of intelligence, one that usually didn’t involve reading many books or keeping a close eye on international politics and economy. He remembered from what he’d read that the man probably had a good education, but he had left that life before he turned sixteen, and after almost a decade later, it was impressive that he was still a cultured person.

Aaron arched one eyebrow and waited for him to make a comment about that, so Alexander didn’t. He pointed at his fries instead and asked: “Are you going to eat those?”

Aaron stared at him in surprise, started to shake his head, and then seemed to reconsider with a frown. “I think I will.”

Alexander was the one with an incredulous look this time. “Something tells me you don’t do it much.”

He loved Abigail, but she was as tough as if she were dealing with models. A nutritionist made very strict, personified diets for every worker, and fries were most certainly out of his. “I don’t. Ab—I mean, we—”

“You’re like models, I get it.”

He didn’t like how that sounded. He had his own life, he was free, it wasn’t like he couldn’t eat those things. The nutritionist’s list was more of a suggestion than anything, to keep them healthy and in good shape. “It’s not like we’re on a diet, but—”

“But you are,” concluded Alexander, rolling his eyes. “Jesus. Please, eat your fries. Hell, let’s have ice cream too. When was the last time you had ice cream?”

Ice cream used to be a prize. His uncle always got him some, if he’d been good. Aaron hated it.

He chuckled and shook his head.

“When, Aaron?”

He blinked and ate a fry. The agent’s eyes didn’t move away from his own eyes. He licked his lips, and again, those eyes stayed up.

“I’m waiting.”

“I don’t know.” Over eight years ago, probably. “Do you remember when the last time you did was?”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Three days ago.”

“But three days ago it was so cold.”

“Having ice cream when it’s cold is the best.”

Aaron shook his head. “I only ever eat ice cream on summer.”

Alexander gasped. “That’s a crime! That’s it, we’re having ice cream right now.”

“I really don’t…”

Alexander narrowed his eyes for a moment but then sighed. “Okay. Ice cream is out of the question. But how about cake? Have you ever eaten cake?”

Aaron snorted. “Yes. I love cake.”

Alexander nodded. “Cake it is, then.”

They had cake, and the agent swore to him that his boss wouldn’t find out. Aaron considering defending Abigail, but it really was for the better if she didn’t hear of it, so he didn’t. The agent later dropped him off outside his apartment downtown and whistled. “You live here?”

Aaron smirked as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Yep.”

“How much do you make? I’m seriously starting to question my life choices here.”

Aaron threw his head back and laughed. “I make enough to afford the rent here, though Abigail lent me some money to buy it.”

He opened the door, but the agent kept talking: “You _own_ it?”

“I have a mortgage.”

“I hate you.”

Aaron snorted. “Okay. Thank you for driving me.”

“Sure, anytime.”

He waved a hand and for a moment considered watching the car go, but clearly the agent was waiting for him to get in, so he awkwardly did. He went upstairs and went straight to the bathroom to turn on the shower.

Then he stayed under the running water for three hours.


	2. Chapter 2

_Someone was coming. He was in the living room of his apartment, except the couch wasn’t his white couch, but a brown one, and someone was coming. He looked around for a place to hide, but then he thought that whoever was coming, was coming from outside so he didn’t have to hide. He just had to close the door._

_He closed the door and went to sit on the couch. Whoever was coming shouldn’t be able to get in, but his heartrate wasn’t dropping. He lied on his side and tried to close his eyes, but then he heard it._

_The sound of a key being inserted in his doorknob, and then, wood sliding on wood._

_He straightened, but he wasn’t on his apartment anymore. He was in the hotel room, and Wilkinson—but it wasn’t Wilkinson. His skin was darker, and he was bald. He was the man that starred in most of his nightmares since he was thirteen, and he was smiling. He tried getting up, he was on a bed now, but when he stood, he noticed the wall to his right wasn’t a wall anymore. It was a diner, and people were coming in and out, but no one seemed to notice him. He wanted to cry as the man by the door made his way towards him, but then someone tapped his arm, and when he turned to face whoever did, Agent Hamilton was there with a sheepish smile, offering him ice cream for having helped with their case._

_Not two feet away from him, his uncle laughed._

_“Oh yes, ice cream, because you’ve been good, isn’t it?”_

Aaron woke up completely soaked with sweat and cussed under his breath. He hadn’t gotten any ice cream, but he could remember its flavor clearly. After he used the bathroom, he brushed his teeth for over five minutes, but the flavor was still there.

He texted Theodosia and was relieved when she told him she was nearby and free. He took a quick shower and, the moment she knocked on his door, he attacked her mouth. They made their way to his bedroom without separating for air, and once there, she immediately started unbuttoning his shirt. He grinned and did his part with her dress, which might have been a mistake.

She eyed his wrists with an arched eyebrow. “Did you have fun last night? I didn’t think you’d like that,” she smirked. “You should’ve told me.”

Aaron paled and had the urge of getting out. He needed space and air because suddenly his lungs weren’t getting any, so he climbed on the bed and crawled back, gluing his back to the wall. There, he shook his head and hugged his sides, but the view of his own wrists altered him even more. He knew his breathing was too fast and shallow, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

Theodosia, who had taken a few steps back and had rearranged her dress, cleared her throat. “Aaron?” she looked uncomfortable. “What is it, dear?”

He swallowed and closed his eyes. He could hear cars on the outside and other sounds typical of the city. There never had been any noise back at _his_ house. It was grounding. “Last night… last night I helped the FBI for the last time with their case, used a wire and everything.”

“Oh,” she bit her bottom lip. “How did it go?”

“He drugged me and tied me while I was unconscious.”

She gasped. “Oh shit. Darling I’m so sorry! You should’ve told me.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’m okay. Nothing happened. The feds arrested him and, well. I just, I really don’t like it. To be restrained.”

“Of course you don’t. I’m sorry. I won’t suggest it again, don’t worry.”

He nodded jerkily and tried to smile, but the atmosphere was most certainly lost. He rubbed his forehead and got up the bed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Judging by her strained smile, he could tell she was lying. He had freaked out with her in a similar way once, on their fourth or fifth time together, and it almost meant the end of their entire affair—because she said she only wanted to have fun and wasn’t there to babysit him. He hadn’t exactly cared at the time, but he’d been locked in her room so by the time he got out, she had calmed too, and they talked about it. She’d asked if that was something that happened often, and since it wasn’t, they kept going. Still, he would get it if this time they didn’t.

“It really is okay, darling. But I think I should go now.” She wouldn’t offer her company for anything other than sex, but that was okay. Aaron didn’t want company.

“Yes.”

She nodded, and he followed her to the door. She wouldn’t look him in the eye, and he didn’t blame her.

After she left, he threw himself back in the bed, buried his head under a pillow, and groaned. He had a job later that day where he knew he would have to be at his best behavior—a friend of Abby would be there, and he liked the guy too, he was interesting. It was nice to have challenging conversations from time to time—not that conversation with Abigail never was, but they differed too much in politics so they avoided it, whereas with Mr. Bentham he never had to.

Abigail had asked him earlier that week if he was sure he would be okay. She had said the whole thing with the feds could leave him exhausted, and offered him to take Friday off, but he’d said no, and he wouldn’t go back in his word. It was supposed to be a fun job.

The truth was, no matter what people thought, he really liked his job most of the time. Sure, there were times in which he got uncomfortable, but there were many occasions in which he got to enjoy himself, and it was easy. All he had to do was smile a lot and be nice—which he already did on a daily basis just to get by.

But it happened. There were many professions that had the stigma of being ‘tough’, either because they were dangerous or dull, and yet there were people who enjoyed it. Even far more ‘respectable’ jobs had the same issue, like accountants, or even the feds. Aaron had had no doubt that Agents Hamilton and Jefferson enjoyed their job, though he couldn’t imagine ever performing it.

What he didn’t know, and he might have found funny, was that the part of the job that Agent Hamilton liked the least was being undercover. Some weeks later found him standing at the side of the ballroom in a luxurious hotel and kept straightening the suit jacket that had nothing to do with the ones he usually wore.

“ _Goddamn it, Hamilton, stop touching the lapels of your jacket, it sounds like a freaking thunder in here each time you do it!_ ” complained loudly his partner through the discreet earpiece he was using.

Alexander took a glass to his mouth and with it as a cover he mumbled: “Then you should’ve been here instead of me, asshole. You don’t like the van, I don’t like pretending to be stupid, this job was really poorly planned.”

“ _You can complain to Adams later. Now stop talking to yourself, or people will think you’re crazy and they won’t tell you anything._ ”

“Or they will tell me everything. You know, since I’m crazy I’m not dangerous or something like that.”

“ _Stop talking, Hamilton._ ”

Alexander sighed heavily but obeyed. Jefferson was right, if he kept talking to himself people would start avoiding him. Not that they were showering him with interest and information, though. The place was crowded, but he was all alone, which wasn’t surprising considering he never practiced much enchanting people in their sixties—unless bosses counted. He’d only been there for fourteen minutes and he already wanted to drown in the alcohol he couldn’t taste. He considered tossing away his ginger ale, but someone in the balcony caught his eye. He thought he could recognize the silhouette, and without thinking too much of it he turned off the microphone in his lapel and went outside. He’d been right. “Mr. Burr?”

The man turned to face Alexander with and arched one eyebrow. “Agent?”

“Uh,” he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head, “I’m kind of undercover right now? Just call me Julio. Who are you here with?”

“ _Alexander?_ ” came Jefferson’s annoying voice through the intercom. “ _I can’t hear you. What happened_?”

“Is that part of your investigation?” he chuckled. “I’m here with Miss A.”

“A woman?”

Aaron arched both eyebrows.

“I mean, uh… nothing, I didn’t mean, I’m just, sorry. It surprised me, but it shouldn’t have, I guessed.”

Aaron glanced inside for a second, saw his date for the night drunkenly talking with another guest, and smiled. “No, it shouldn’t have,” he licked his lips. “Who I am or what I like have nothing to do with my job. The clients pick us, not the other way around.”

“Sure, but you can say no, right?”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Of course, we can if we have a reason for that. I mean, look at poor Miss A, what possible reason could I have to reject her? She’s a little annoying, but isn’t everyone?”

Alexander narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think I really get your job.”

“Miss A’s husband had a heart attack four months ago, and she wouldn’t dare coming to this party alone. My job is to let her hold my arm, get her drinks and dance if she wants to. Thankfully so far, she hasn’t.”

“And are you on your break or something?”

Aaron chuckled. “In fact, I kind of am. But I think she’s gotten so drunk she forgot I’m here, and I’ll let you know I’m taking advantage of that.”

Alexander threw his head back as he laughed. “Well, I don’t blame you. I guess you don’t happen to know Mr. Bentham?”

Aaron arched his eyebrows. Poor Mr. Bentham wasn’t even there that night. “What did poor Jeremy do?”

“Seriously? He’s an old client too?”

Aaron snorted. “No. He’s a friend of Abigail and teaches new workers some etiquette and other stuff to prepare them for this sort of scene. He’s a nice guy.”

He probably hadn’t needed to teach Aaron anything though. From what he’d read, Alexander remembered Aaron had grown up in that scene. “Do you think you could tell me more about him? I was supposed to probe the scene here, get other people’s opinions, but they haven’t been very helpful.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Not long enough, but I’m reaching my limit.”

Aaron hummed, resting his elbows on the rail. “I think I could. I mean, I do know what most of the people inside think of him, I know most of the story of his life, and well, I know him. I know how he works. Have known him for eight years.”

“Is this going to cost me?”

Aaron chuckled. “Just coffee. I believe Miss A will be ready to go in thirty minutes—or she should be. That’s what she paid for.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the parking lot, by the door.

“I’ll meet you there, then.”

Alexander nodded and told himself all his excitement was only due to the fact that he could leave the party early. He didn’t turn on the mic again; there was no point in acting crazy when the van in which Jefferson was waiting wasn’t that far away. He whistled on his way there and opened the doors brusquely and triumphantly. That no one inside was surprised with his big entrance could only be explained by the fact that they all had known Alexander Hamilton for three years at least, and after that time, hardly anything he did was surprising. Jefferson could see him riding an elephant in the middle of Manhattan with the ambassador of India and he wouldn’t bat an eye.

“What did you find?” was all he asked.

“Remember our witness from the Wilkinson case?”

“The escort?”

Alexander hummed and nodded. He had crossed his arms over his chest but since he was rocking on his heels he still looked like a kid that was expecting to be rewarded for his good behavior, and Jefferson wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Well, he didn’t want to, but then his partner went and said: “He knows Bentham too.”

“You’re kidding.”

“He’s known the guy for years. I get the feeling he’s going to be far more useful than anyone in there. He finishes the job he’s doing in thirty minutes, so I’ll meet with him then.”

Thomas frowned. “Hey… are you sure that’s a good idea? We’re not in any hurry. You guys could meet tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Hamilton,” he licked his lips, “you… aren’t you a little…?”

Hamilton stopped moving and his expression turned irritated. “This is strictly professional, Thomas.”

“I hope so.”

“It is!”

Jefferson hummed. “Look, I really couldn’t care less, alright? Just… be smart, Hamilton. Don’t screw our case. And remember most people doesn’t like it when agents do background checks on them without telling them.”

Alexander bit the inside of his cheek and looked away. “I know. You don’t have to tell me that.” He wasn’t stupid. He just wouldn’t mention it. He was sure he wouldn’t have a problem having a conversation with the guy—Jefferson couldn’t know, but he hadn’t forgotten the last time he’d seen Mr. Burr, and the idea of sharing another coffee with him was exciting. He knew the conversation should focus on Bentham, but hopefully there would be some space for a little of politics and a little of economics and who knew what else. Really, he just wanted an excuse to argue, and the fact that Mr. Burr’s voice and face were so nice was just a bonus.

Watching him smile was nice. Walking by his side on their way to Aaron’s car was nice. And the drive to the café, passive-aggressively fighting by changing the radio station the other picked after every few seconds, was simply extremely entertaining. By the time they reached the closest café, both were laughing loudly.

“Okay,” said Aaron as they sat. “I don’t know if there’s anything I could tell you that will be useful, I mean, I’ve only seen him a few times every few months, but Abigail knows him well.”

“How about you start telling me how she pays him?”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “By credit card? He’s like any other tutor.”

A waiter interrupted them, but not for long. When the teenager was far away doing something that wasn’t coffee, Alexander leaned back in his uncomfortable chair. “She hires many of those?”

“Yes. Also nutritionists, ophthalmologists, dentists…”

“Wow. I get it. She’s cool. You probably have a better dental plan than I do.” The waiter brought them their coffee and didn’t ask if they wanted milk. Alexander wanted milk. He pouted.

“Probably.” Aaron grinned, with his perfect white teeth. “Did you know that your boss asked Abigail out?”

Alexander choked on his milk-less coffee. “What?”

Aaron hummed. “I was shocked too. I didn’t get the impression she liked him when they met, but…” he shrugged one shoulder, “the thing is that they’ve had a couple of dates now.”

Alexander rubbed his jaw distractedly. “I can’t believe it. I mean, Adams is just so… insufferable. And your boss seemed pretty badass. Why would she date him?”

Aaron shrugged. “I don’t know, but she seems to really like him. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Alexander snorted as he poured half the sugar bowl in his mug. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” He took a long sip of his coffee. He grimaced. He should’ve ordered hot chocolate. “Wilkinson never suspected you were involved at all, by the way. He kept telling us how you would think badly of him because of us.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Yes. I’m sure he thought that getting interrupted by the police was way worse than basically getting kidnapped. I swear I don’t understand how the guy’s mind works. Anyway, going back to Bentham. What exactly do you need to know? Abigail told me he was a professor in England in an etiquette school, and the school closed. He also gave lessons to some models and actors and came to America to focus on that about twelve years ago. That’s how they met, but they became friends. Now they get together for lunch at least once every two weeks. Please don’t tell me this is about tax evasion?”

“I can’t tell you what this is about.”

Aaron sighed. “Alright. I don’t know what else to tell you. It’s your turn to ask.”

Alexander did, and somewhat, the conversation extended. If the agent thought the escort knew a little too much, he didn’t voice it, and Aaron never acted in a way that could suggest he was keeping anything to himself. The waiter never came back, so they never got a refill, but they stayed for almost two hours anyway.

“Thank you,” said Alexander sincerely after they paid the bill and stood up to leave the café.

“Any time, Agent.”

Alexander bit his bottom lip. “You mean that?”

Aaron seemed surprised. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean…” he fished his wallet out of his pocket and offered him his card. “Just, you know, just in case. That’s my number.”

Aaron took the card and arched his eyebrows. “Okay. Sure.” He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he didn’t see a reason to throw it away. He put it in his wallet, in between his credit and library card.

Alexander watched this with pleasure for some reason, and he remembered George once had told him that for someone as smart as he was, it surely took his brain long to catch up with his heart. He then proceeded to ignore that senseless thought.

“Goodnight, Agent.”

“Goodnight Mr. Burr.”

The white van picked him up and he started retelling everything he’d heard, which was a lot more than what they had hoped to find at the party.

Still, Thomas never looked as excited as Hamilton. If he had to be honest, he was a little concerned about his partner and his exaggerated exhilaration about encountering the escort, but they really weren’t friends. He wouldn’t ask about his _feelings_ or anything like that, and soon enough he forgot all about it since Hamilton didn’t mention the escort again. Besides, he had his own problems. Well, they weren’t _problems_ per se. Patsy was doing better. Everything seemed to be in the right place for a while. It wasn’t until the end of August during dinner that she went and said: “Doctor Madison says that if I agree, next session could be our last.”

Thomas stopped eating. “Really?”

Patsy’s crooked smile made him uneasy, but she nodded and then changed the topic of conversation.

The next Thursday he went to pick her up after her appointment like he had done for the last couple of months, except the feeling in the pit of his stomach had never been there before. That dreadful sensation of ‘finality’ had never been there before. He swallowed and, as he saw her exit the office, he asked her if she could wait a minute and then told the doctor the same thing. She agreed and said she had to use the restroom anyway, and the doctor… well, he agreed as well, of course.

His smile had no right to make him look that handsome.

“Hey,” Thomas cleared his throat, “doctor, uh…”

“Yes?”

“Would it be, would you like having dinner sometime? Or…”

“I would love to.”

There weren’t any rules that forbid dating your kid’s ex-shrink. He’d checked. And Doctor Madison was the first person that had made Thomas consider be anything but an eternal widower, and he already knew Patsy liked him, so really, what could go wrong?

Well, he hadn’t been counting on doctor Madison’s spectacular bad luck.

They went out the very next day, and Thomas had planned everything. It had been easy. He liked good food, so his favorite restaurants were only the best places to take someone special. Still, twenty minutes into the date, everything went to hell and they had to run to the emergency room.

“I am so sorry,” mumbled the man that only now, after a big dose of epinephrine, was able of forming words with his huge tongue.

Thomas shook his head. “No, I am. I can’t believe I didn’t ask if the cream had any pepper.”

“That wasn’t your responsibility, it was mine.”

“But I recommended you that dish.”

“And yet, I should’ve asked if it contained anything I was allergic to. I have dozens of allergies, so really, I do it most of the time. I don’t know why I didn’t tonight. Well…” he scratched the back of his head, “I was a little nervous.”

“Nervous?”

“You’re probably the most handsome man who’s ever asked me out,” he shrugged. “This is just my usual luck.”

Thomas rubbed his jaw. “Well now you got me worried, James,” it was still weird to call him that and Thomas loved how the name rolled off his tongue. “I guess I’ll just have to check on you from time to time, just to make sure you’re okay. If this sort of thing happens to you often, who knows when a client with good intentions will bake you cookies and forget to mention they contain, I don’t know…”

“Ginger?”

“You’re allergic to ginger too?”

James nodded.

“Damn. I think I’m going to need a full list of those.”

James chuckled. “I actually have one on my phone, just in case.”

“Then send it to me,” he asked, and relished in the way the doctor stared at him as if he were amazing just for that. It wasn’t such a terrible date after all. Once they were done in the ER, the sitter he had hired for the girls still had to be in his house for over two hours. When he asked James what he would like to do, the doctor had blushed and then proposed a game of chess—Thomas knew he had one in his office and he sometimes played with his patients when trying to get them to open up. He had started playing with Patsy on their fourth or fifth session, but for another reason entirely: she had asked. And since chess had been one of the extracurricular activities she had abandoned earlier that semester, James had highly encouraged it, and they played on every session after that.

Thomas loved the idea immediately. He didn’t stop to question the reason behind the doctor’s awkwardness while suggesting it. He didn’t stop to question the doctor’s sudden boldness as he intertwined their fingers in the car. Not for a minute did he stop to think that there could be anything more in that invitation. Not until, stupidly so, he realized the place James lead them to wasn’t his office, but his apartment. Of course, his own embarrassment lasted only so long, and the minute they were inside he passed an arm around the doctor’s waist and stopped abruptly before their lips met. “You’re not allergic to salmon, rice, tomato or parsley?”

“No.”

“Great.” He proceeded with the kiss, and decided it had all been worth it, even the forty minutes sitting in the hospital feeling like he was talking to himself while James could only respond by writing in his phone.

Really, the eating part on dates was overrated. It wasn’t necessary to make a date fantastic. But sure, it was enjoyable nevertheless. And having company for lunch, for example, was always an upgrade to eating alone—except on certain occasions, but it was on most cases.

Aaron was used to eating alone. He lived alone, after all, and had for about eight years, but on the few times Theodosia asked him if he wanted to join her at a restaurant, it made him happy. And maybe their relationship wasn’t normal, and maybe he wasn’t in love, but he was happy having someone to share a meal with from time to time, even if she would later have dinner with her husband.

That was probably why she was used to having his full attention during those times. Whenever they met on one of their apartments, they rarely talked. They had some conversation eventually, but they didn’t know much about the other, and it was on the few times they met for lunch that they got to talk the most.

So when he didn’t listen to her every single word, she kicked him under the table.

“What’s going on? I didn’t invite you here to stare into your phone the whole time.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… Maria had a job earlier and she hasn’t answered any of my texts.”

Theo arched one eyebrow. “So?”

“Well… it’s weird. She usually answers right away, or at least tells me when she’s busy.”

“I’m getting jealous.”

It was a joke, but it still irked him, because he knew he couldn’t make the same joke without upsetting her. He didn’t have the right to be jealous whenever she was with her husband. He bit the inside of his cheek. “She’s my best friend. This is weird. It worries me.”

Theodosia rolled her eyes. “You worry too much, dear. Please, finish your salad.”

It only had been two hours. She might have gotten distracted or was in some activity in which she couldn’t use her phone and hadn’t had the time to tell him, but he doubted it. Still, he finished his salad. And then, when she invited him to her apartment, he went. But two hours later, when she still didn’t answer, he started to panic. He didn’t tell Theodosia and didn’t have to because her husband would arrive soon, so it was perfect for him to leave at the time he did, but the moment he got to his place he checked the history of his messages with Maria to see where she was supposed to go and started making phone calls, but soon enough when that didn’t get him anywhere he remembered the card in his wallet.

He probably shouldn’t. Agent Hamilton had been nice after he helped, but he probably had felt guilty and momentarily grateful, nothing more. However, he didn’t know what else to do. He had called every hospital in the area and it had been useless, just as the police. The NYPD had no waiting period, but they still didn’t listen to him when he said he wasn’t related to her and all he had was that she hadn’t picked up the phone in four hours and he couldn’t blame them for that. After hesitating for a minute or two, he finally made the call.

“ _Agent Hamilton,_ ” said the voice he hadn’t forgotten in the last five months.

Aaron took a deep breath, and then he didn’t say anything.

“ _Hello?_ ”

He probably didn’t remember him. Still, he tried: “Agent?”

“ _Mr. Burr_?” came the immediate response.

“Yes, uh… is there…” he gulped, “never mind. I’m sorry.”

“ _Hey, no, wait! Don’t hang up, don’t hang up, just… I’m on my lunch break. You want to join me? Where are you?_ ”

Aaron bit his bottom lip and refused to check his reflection in the mirror of his dresser. He knew he was a mess. “I really don’t want to bother you.”

“ _You’re not. I could use some company. Do you know the Red and Black? It’s a diner downtown near the burau._ ”

“Yeah, I do,” he cleared his throat. “I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.” He hung up, dried his face with his hands, grabbed his phone, wallet and keys, and left. He knew the place, and it shouldn’t take him long to get there.

Hamilton hoped that because he already had ordered his food and he was hungry.

“You could use some company? Hamilton, I’m literally right here,” snapped Jefferson.

Alexander rolled his eyes. “He sounded weird.”

“You said Burr. Wasn’t he the escort from the Wilkinson case?”

Alexander nodded. “I think he was crying.”

Jefferson frowned. “And he called _you_?”

“I gave him my card after I found him that time when he told me about Bentham, remember?”

“Is this the first time you talk since then?”

“Yeah.”

Thomas arched his eyebrows and took a sip of his diet coke. “I’ll leave you then.” He gestured to the waiter while his partner bit the nail of his thumb like a giant baby. “Could you put my order on a box? I got to go fast.”

“You think something bad happened to him?”

“I don’t see why else he would’ve called you. It’s been months.”

Six months since the Wilkinson case, and five since he’d given him his card. Still, he recognized him the moment he entered the diner, six or seven minutes after Jefferson had left. “Mr. Burr?”

“Hey, good morning Agent.”

“It’s well past noon.” It was almost four in the afternoon.

“Sure.” He sat down a little clumsily and made sure to put his phone on the table with the screen facing up. “Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?”

Aaron bit his bottom lip. Alexander couldn’t see him fidgeting with the hem of his shirt under the table, but he wouldn’t have been surprised by the view.

“Aaron, can I call you Aaron?”

Aaron nodded.

“I’m already here. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s really not…”

“You called me. I’m pretty sure it’s something big.”

“I’m just… worried. But it’s only been five hours and—”

Alexander frowned. “Wait. Is there someone missing?”

Aaron bit his bottom lip and nodded. “A friend, a… a co-worker. No matter the job, she never stops answering the phone, maybe with half an hour of delay at most.”

“She had a job this morning and hasn’t answered her phone in five hours?”

Aaron nodded.

“Shit.” Alexander ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, let me make some calls. Do you know who the client was?”

“Yes.” He had written everything he knew in a note in his phone. “Here,” he handed it to the agent. “I have many pictures of her too, I have one selected in the photo gallery.”

Since Alexander had joined the FBI, he’d only asked his dad for help thrice, and it had always been his last choice. The man worked as a professor in Columbia now, but he knew that if he wanted something done fast and right, there simply were no other options, not when he was one. He dialed one of his recent calls and waited.

His adoptive father answered at the second tone. “ _Alex?_ ”

“Hey d—sir,” he cleared his throat, uncomfortable with how conscious he was of the escort’s presence in front of him. “Uh, I kind of,” he stood up and walked away, where hopefully he couldn’t be heard, “I need your help. I mean, not exactly but—” He felt silly, like all those times when he’d been a kid. He hadn’t even asked if he was busy, but…

“ _Tell me what happened._ ”

But George always made time for him, and he was only a professor now. There wasn’t anything else far more urgent that he was neglecting because of him. He cleared his throat. “There’s a missing person, but the cops won’t give it the attention it requires. What should I do?”

“ _Where was this person last seen, and who was with them?_ ”

“I have everything written. You want me to send you an email?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Okay.”

“ _We’ll find them_.”

Alexander sighed. “I know, dad. Thanks.” He emailed him all the information he had including some pictures and then went back to the table. He still had half his plate intact, but he wasn’t sure if eating was a good idea. “I sent it all to more people, and they’re going to pressure the police to make it priority. We’re going to find her, I promise.”

“Thank you. Please, finish your lunch. I hope you don’t mind I don’t join you. I already ate.”

Alexander eyed his meal. “Are you sure? We can go to the precinct that’ll be handling the search if you want. They probably won’t give us much information, but we’ll know the minute something occurs.”

Aaron bit his bottom lip. “I would like that. But you should eat.”

Alexander rolled his eyes. “I ate more than enough. Come on.”

Aaron wanted to insist, but he also wanted to _move_ , to feel like he was doing something even if he wasn’t. At least he could breathe a little easier knowing that someone other than him _was_ looking for her. He was relieved when the agent didn’t try to make any conversation, and then at the precinct when he got him mineral water and some cookies, he smiled, but it was like he was uncapable of talking. He could only alternate his eyes from the clock on the wall to the detectives working several feet away from him. The big room looked chaotic to him, but many officers were simply eating or talking and didn’t seem fazed with their coworkers’ franticness. There was only one officer that acknowledged their existence and Aaron deduced he knew Agent Hamilton, because he came as often as he could even when he had nothing to say.

That was probably why Aaron didn’t pay him much attention until, about two hours into the search, he said: “We found her. She was with a guy that fitted the description for another perp from several other victims, and for the first time we were able to get in time. They were in a warehouse near the docks, she seems to be a little shaken and probably in shock, but she’s okay.”

‘ _She’s alive,_ ’ he meant.

Aaron’s legs could barely hold him after the news, and the agent noticed.

“Shit, uh, let’s sit.”

Aaron shook his head so brusquely he got dizzy, or maybe that was still the shock. “I want to see her.”

“Of course,” Alexander cleared his throat, “I’ll take you there. Come on.” He gave him an odd look in a moment’s hesitation, and then passed an arm around Aaron’s waist. “Let’s go.”

Aaron could’ve complained. He probably should’ve, and he certainly didn’t thank him, but he didn’t push him away either. Sometimes, unasked help wasn’t necessarily unwanted, and he really didn’t think he would’ve been capable of walking without help.

Alexander drove them not far from there and parked near an ambulance. There were several officers, but no one stopped them. Still, they stayed a few feet away from the ambulance where they were told Maria was being checked.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” said Alexander, smiling tenderly. “I mean, if you hadn’t acted so fast, we never would’ve found them.”

“All I did was—”

“You did what others failed to do for seven different women. It was not something small. Hey… really.” He then nodded towards the paramedic approaching them. “It looks like you can go see her.”

Aaron’s first instinct was to run there, but he stopped a moment to turn and squeeze the agent’s shoulder. “Thank you.” Then he ran, and he didn’t notice the agent watching him. “Maria!” he jumped on the ambulance and hesitated before touching her.

“Oh, Aaron…” she immediately hung to his neck tightly, sobbing. “I was so scared. Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“We’re going to move,” informed them a paramedic.

“You okay?”

“They want me to stay the night at the hospital, just in case,” explained Maria. Things rattled around them as the ambulance moved, and Aaron squeezed her hand the thirteen minutes it took them to get to the hospital. He was allowed to stay by her side the whole time, but they didn’t talk much aside from the occasional politeness to a nurse until they were all alone.

“You’re the only reason I’m alive now, Aaron,” said Maria softly. “I appreciate what the cops did, sure, but if it hadn’t been for you, no one would’ve looked.”

He bit his bottom lip. “They still wouldn’t. They didn’t listen to me at first. They only did after I—”

There was a knock on the door, and then Abigail’s face appeared. “Hello? Can I come in?”

“Abigail, sure.”

“Hello dear,” she closed the door behind her and went to sit on the bed, across from Aaron. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel like I’m dreaming. It might be the drugs, though.”

For about three hours, the three of them talked and laughed like nothing had happened, and whenever the conversation wanted to turn heavy, Maria changed the subject abruptly, so they never insisted. She didn’t want to talk about what had happened in the warehouse, so they didn’t ask. She wanted to talk about Abigail’s new relationship and about Aaron’s last client and about whatever movie they’d seen last, and they complied.

Aaron would’ve liked staying the night at the hospital with her, but Abigail insisted he had to go home and sleep on a bed instead of a chair. It had been a stressful day for him as well after all, so he couldn’t find a reasonable excuse to stay with Maria, not when even she had insisted he should go, that she would be okay. She probably wanted to be alone for a while too. Or maybe not. There were some people that didn’t like being alone, but Aaron couldn’t tell which type she was. The three of them were good, professional liars after all.

The next day, Aaron woke up feeling slightly guilty. He couldn’t remember most of his dream, but a fragment in particular stayed with him for hours:

_He was walking down the street talking to Maria about a show she wanted to watch when a car hit them. It barely touched him, but when he turned to see Maria, she was nowhere to be seen, and the people around didn’t seem concerned. He considered running, but for some reason, he knew he couldn’t, shouldn’t move away. Then, he spotted Agent Hamilton walking towards him with a nervous grin, waving a hand. Aaron waved back awkwardly._

Agent Hamilton had been very helpful, and he barely had thanked him, but he wouldn’t call him again just to show gratitude somehow. Soon enough he pushed the thought away. There were other, more pressing things in his mind.

Maria was terrified, which was understandable. He wished he could do something to make her feel better, safer, but he knew she needed time to readjust after what she’d been through. And if she never felt safe again, no one could blame her. He didn’t mind getting her stuff from the pharmacy from time to time, and if he would’ve been a girl, he wouldn’t have minded covering her at work either.

However, Abigail disagreed. She seemed to be convinced they needed to do something to help her recover fast. No one had given Maria a medical leave over extreme emotional distress, but Abigail still had given her a paid month off. However, when after that she said she was going back to work and then kept rejecting all the jobs that were for her, even when they all consisted of the most harmless thing you could imagine, Abigail decided she merited her attention.

“I understand if she doesn’t want to work again, but tell her that she can take some more days, maybe get some therapy…”

Aaron snorted, and Abigail glared at him. “Isn’t she your friend? I get it that she needs time to get her life back. I’m not telling her to go out on dates or be comfortable talking to strangers on the street, but I’m only sending her the safest job options. I’m just worried about what’ll happen to her if she stops working. I can’t pay her forever if she doesn’t earn it.”

“She’s not going to be working here forever.”

“I know that. That’s why she shouldn’t waste the years she has left.” Even if they were hiring company and not sex, people still preferred those that looked under thirty.

She had a point. Maria had barely graduated high school; it really was for the better if she worked there for as long as she could. He texted her, and she answered right away. “There. She’ll see me in my apartment for a movie night and I’ll talk to her about it.”

“Thank you.”

Aaron nodded. Maybe therapy could help. Maybe he could. Maybe it would all be a mess and she would hate him. But Abigail had asked him to, so he would do it anyway.

After he left, Abigail sighed heavily and threw her head back. She was tired, and wished she had a clue on what to do about it all.

“Hey.” SAC Adams exited the bathroom. He hadn’t been exactly hiding, but Aaron had gotten in while he was there and it would’ve been rude to interrupt the conversation, so he stayed until he heard the door closing. “Can we go now? You done?”

“Yes.”

“What was that last meeting about?”

“I was asking Aaron to help Maria, maybe convince her to get some therapy. I just hope she won’t quit. She makes good money here. She’s young…”

“And you got Aaron to do that? Why didn’t you talk to her?”

“He’s a good friend of her, and he’s good with words, better than me.”

He hummed. “You care a lot about that boy, don’t you?”

Abigail sighed. “I care about all my workers, John, but yes. Aaron is…” she pursed her lips and looked out the window, “he’s different, I guess.”

“Different how?”

“Why do you care?”

“It’s always interesting to get a look at how your mind works.” He inspected one shelf and then sat on the couch against an adjacent wall. “I also would like to learn if there’s a particular reason one of my agents gave him his card.”

She smiled and stood up. “Oh, that probably has nothing to do with how special he is, John. His job is to charm people, after all.”

John rolled his eyes. “I mean it, Abby.”

She sat down next to him and bumped their shoulders together. “I met Aaron when he was sixteen and running away from home. I don’t really go around hiring the people I find on the street, you know? They come to me and are usually older. So damn right he’s special. I’ve known him for eight years, I practically saw him grow up.”

“You saw a sixteen-year-old boy running away from home and decided to hire him?”

She rolled her eyes and playfully slapped his arm. “No, silly. I was in the hospital because one of my girls had been in a car accident with a client—they were okay, but it was a mess anyway, and said client was French and barely spoke any English. He had a translator with him, but the poor guy was unconscious, and while he was arguing with us in the waiting room, Aaron approached us.” Her smile turned tenderer and her gaze stayed fix over something on her desk. “It turns out he was perfectly fluent and solved everything in minutes, he even got the guy to apologize to us. I knew right then that I needed to have more people like him in my agency and considered implanting foreign language lessons too.”

“So you hired him?”

“Jesus, John,” she glared at him, “I don’t go around telling every attractive person on the street they should work for me.”

He frowned. “But I don’t understand. How did you learn he was running away from home?”

“He asked me how we had ended up in that situation and I told him about my agency. _He_ asked me for a job, and tried to tell me he was eighteen, which I chose to believe and booked an interview with him for the next day. Eventually I learnt all the details and we reached an agreement.”

“An agreement?”

“What, you would’ve rather I called social services? His situation was delicate, John, and I knew I could give him a stable job.”

“A quite dangerous one, too.”

“It’s not usually like that. We get a lot of old and rich people that just need a plus one for a party or want some company for a few hours. These dangerous men, they hire prostitutes, or other escort agencies with different targeted audiences. My workers are too cultured for those scumbags.”

They most certainly were. A movie night with less cultured people probably wouldn’t resemble Aaron’s foreign selection—though they did indulge from time to time in a silly blockbuster or two. Nevertheless, he had never watched and never would watch anything that had sea creatures attacking people _off_ the sea—nothing with monster piranhas nor, god forbid, flying sharks—no matter how much Maria insisted they were general culture.

After they finished the second romcom of the night, Aaron turned in his couch to face his friend and said: “Move in with me.”

She stared at him wide-eyed for a minute, her mouth still full of popcorn, and shook her head.

“Maria, honestly. I got space, and you’re not okay. Have you gone to therapy?”

She swallowed and bit her bottom lip.

“Maria…”

“I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.” He turned around completely to face her crossing his legs in front of him and held her hands. “You’re not okay, but that is understandable. You need some time to heal, and that’s fine. There is no deadline, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t _try_ to get better.”

“I’m trying.”

“How?”

“I…” she licked her lips, “I’m starting to go out. To the store and stuff. I…”

“When was the last time you ate a real meal? Let me cook something for you.”

She bit her bottom lip and looked around. “Fine. But let me help you. Can we make that weird thing with rice and mushrooms that Abigail taught you?”

Abigail had taught him everything he knew in the kitchen. Before he met Abigail, he hadn’t even known how to make a salad. He knew what dish she meant anyway, so he nodded, and Maria smiled sincerely.

According to her, Aaron was not only her best friend, but the best friend anyone could have. She packed all her things the next day early in the morning, and even searched the web for a shrink. After trying to sleep later, she searched again for someone who could also get her some sleeping pills. She found one that seemed nice but hesitated to make the appointment until she got a message from Abigail that said she would pay for it. She could swear the woman had some sixth sense or power, or maybe it was that she was very good at business and could evaluate everything like assets and investments, but Maria was glad to be her employee anyway. She made a decision right then, but didn’t say it out loud until she was with the shrink, discussing other things, like what exactly had happened on that warehouse and her relationship with her mother—how come all her problems always could go back to her?

She wouldn’t leave her job. Abigail was a great boss, she made good money, and her clients rarely were dangerous creeps. Most of the time they were just awkward. She could tell the doctor wasn’t convinced she was making the right call, but he didn’t contradict her or try to get her to change her mind. He was very respectful, and she liked that. After she left his office, men with blond hair and glasses still anguished her, but the sea of uninterested people didn’t look so terrifying. Still, she hadn’t been ready to be tapped on the shoulder by a stranger, so she yelped.

The stranger, a cute girl that was probably around her age, stared at her wide-eyed.

Maria cleared her throat. “Sorry. I was surprised.”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I should’ve known better than surprising you like that.” She bit her bottom lip. “But since I’ve already done it, could I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

She just needed to find an address, and she was lucky Maria’s brain was faster than Google Maps. She had grown in the city and knew it well, and she was good with words—courtesy of Abigail’s extensive education for her employees—so she made sure the girl knew exactly how to reach her destiny with little to no inconvenient.

“Thank you,” said the cute stranger, almost in awe.

Maria gave her best smile and shook her head. “No problem.” She only had given her an address, after all, but it felt good, charming a stranger with total naturalness. It meant she was ready to go back to her job.

She kept thinking of the girl for a few minutes, but as she approached Aaron’s—and now hers too—apartment she forgot, trying to focus on her therapy session and what she would tell her friend.

 “How was it?” he asked the moment she stepped inside.

“Well,” she hanged her purse in the coat rack by the entrance, “doctor Madison is… nice. I actually liked talking to him.”

Aaron smiled. “That’s good!”

“Have you ever been to therapy?”

Abigail forced him to, when she first met him. It didn’t go well.

He shook his head.

“I hadn’t either. I was hoping it would be a lot worse!”

A lot of people did. To some it was easy, even necessary, to talk about their problems, but when a person was private and reserved, it was a stressful prospect, and therapists and shrinks had to be good at making people feel comfortable enough to share what they usually wouldn’t.

Doctor James Madison was, in fact, one of those private persons. He was awkward and clumsy and was easily embarrassed, so much that Agent Jefferson felt the urge of constantly reminding him how successful, intelligent and handsome he was. James never complained when he did, of course, especially not when all the sweet words were accompanied by gentle and big hands making their best to untie the knots in his back and neck. It was in times like those that James would talk the most. Sometimes they would talk about childhood experiences or just a movie they wanted to watch, but occasionally, they would talk about his patients; especially on those days in which Thomas went by his office to go get lunch together and caught a glimpse of whoever had been in session.

Maybe he should’ve known better though, because Thomas was a largemouth. Sure, he didn’t tell the world about his life on social media nor anything, but during lunch with his partner they gossiped more than teenage girls on a slumber party.

“Yesterday when I went by doctor Madison’s office do you know who I found?”

“Who?” asked Alexander around a mouthful of lasagna.

Thomas threw him several napkins. “The missing girl from the other day.” He hadn’t recognized her right away, but he’d asked James about her out of curiosity, irked by the familiar face, and after the man had dropped a few facts he had remembered.

“Really?”

“Yeah… you’ve talked to Burr again?”

“No,” he was suddenly irritated for no reason, “why?”

Thomas shrugged. “Nothing, just… what happened was pretty fucked up. You know if he’s still working for that agency?”

He didn’t know anything of the man in almost two months. The last thing he’d heard was that he was with his friend in the ambulance, after he’d thanked him. “I don’t know.”

“Apparently she’s planning to keep working.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I found it just as odd, and doctor Madison did too, I mean, he told me about it.”

Alexander arched one eyebrow. “How often do you two talk about his patients?”

Thomas crossed his arms over his chest. “Not that often.”

Alexander snorted. “You guys are getting pretty serious uh.”

Thomas cleared his throat. He didn’t want to discuss that with Hamilton, of all people. He didn’t want to discuss that with anyone. He was a hypocrite who enjoyed talking about other people, but he never talked about himself. He wasn’t thinking of seriousness, but they were doing okay.

Greeting someone with a kiss on the mouth was a very tiny, special thing, and somehow it always managed to spread a certain warmness through Thomas’s chest. That he’d been doing that a lot lately kept him in a good mood. It was just a thoughtless action that couples did all the time, be it out of habit or simply because they could, it was hardly ever sexual or intense, usually just a peck on the lips to tell the other person you were there, or to tell the world what you were.

Aaron rarely met with Theodosia in public, and on those occasions, they never kissed. She would be distant with a subtle hint of mischievousness in her eyes, stray hands and feet but always careful, mindful of who could watch. When she visited his apartment, however, things usually escalated quickly. She always called firsthand so she knew they would be alone. Their first kiss would be full of intention, passionate since the very beginning, so on the day that it wasn’t…

“What?” he frowned. She had placed her hands softly on his shoulders, had pecked him on the lips shortly and then showed him the bottle of wine she had brought.

“I just thought we could talk a little tonight?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to the right. She was a good liar, but he was a professional performer. “What do you want?”

She dropped the smile and looked around the room. Slowly, she made her way to the bedroom, leaving the bottle on top of one of the bookcases in the living room.

He followed her warily and found her looking out the window, playing with the hem of her dress.

“You have a friend in the FBI, right?”

Aaron arched his eyebrows. “Well, I wouldn’t say he’s a friend. Why?”

“But he helped you once, didn’t he? After that girl went missing.”

After Aaron’s best friend had gone missing, while Theodosia wanted to eat lunch. A girl that now lived with him and she hadn’t bothered to learn her name.

She must have noticed his tension, for she grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers. “I need a favor too.”

“What is it?”

“It’s Mark.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “They’re investigating him, but he hasn’t done anything, really. It’s all his partner’s fault. He’s the one maligning and they let him go.”

He took a step back. “But Theo, what could I possibly do to help you?”

“Just… talk to that friend of yours. Tell him what a wonderful guy Mark is, I don’t know.”

He sat heavily on the bed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Theo, I don’t even know Mark.”

“But don’t you trust me? Please…”

“I trust you, Theo, but I don’t know what you want me to do.”

She sat on his lap and passed one arm over his shoulders. “Well, firstly you could just buy the guy some coffee, be his friend, so your opinion matters to him.”

Aaron swallowed. “Theo…”

“And then,” she roamed a finger over his chest while her other hand kneaded his neck, “then you could casually mention your friend, that’s in trouble when really he hasn’t done anything wrong. Something like that.”

He didn’t say again that he wouldn’t do it, but he didn’t say yes either, and made sure to change the subject to something far more pleasurable with a lot less words.

He wasn’t really considering it. Not at all. Agent Hamilton was a good, intelligent man, and he had no intention of deceiving him, but on Friday night the feds arrested Mark and Theodosia called him in tears and he… well, he figured having a word or two with the agent where he made sure to mention his poor friend wouldn’t hurt anyone. Really, it was only to make Theo feel like they had done something, though he was sure she was doing quite a lot already.

On Saturday morning he made the decision he would talk to Agent Hamilton, but he didn’t call him. He couldn’t just casually call him every few months with a request, and even if he insisted he didn’t need anything, the agent wouldn’t believe him. If he had wanted to make a social call, he would’ve done it at least a month earlier. It was problematic because it was Saturday. On a weekday, he could’ve made his way around the diners near the bureau, find an excuse to be near him and simply say hi like a polite person that’s still grateful, maybe schedule a meal for some other time, but not on a Saturday, and he didn’t know where the man lived as if to pull off something similar. Aaron hadn’t thought he was especially resourceful, not in the way Abigail was, and his luck wasn’t the best either, but Theodosia’s probably was, because when he went to fetch breakfast at a nice bakery he liked to visit when it was sunny—which for December in New York City wasn’t exactly common—he saw the man in question standing in line.

“Agent Hamilton!”

The man turned wearing an expression of both, utter confusion and delight. “Mr. Burr?”

“Hey,” he gave him his most tender smile, “Agent, how have you been?”

Alexander cleared his throat. “Fine, fine, uh… you? And your friend, is she alright?”

“She’s doing better,” he nodded. “Could I get you a hot chocolate?”

Alexander grinned. Surely he couldn’t believe Aaron hadn’t noticed the whole thing about wanting to drink less coffee had been a lie? He was sure the one time he saw him drinking coffee he’d ended up drinking more crystalized sugar. “That would be nice.”

They got a table near the window and conversation came easily. It was always easy to talk to agent Hamilton, even on the surreal scenario of a particularly sunny Saturday in early December having hot chocolate and chocolate bread. Aaron himself had gotten toasts. He always thought he liked sweet things a little too much but compared to Agent Hamilton he was nothing but an amateur. Their nice, superfluous chatter was interrupted by the agent’s telephone. He grimaced as he answered and had what was visibly a frustrating conversation. Gone were the smile and the incipient wrinkles around his eyes, replaced by a sharp glare and tightened lips that clearly were keeping a string of expletives in. Once the call was over, however, all the hard lines disappeared, and he gave Aaron a sheepish smile.

“Sorry about that. It’s just, my last case is a real pain in my ass.”

“Why is that?”

Alexander sighed. “They’re a big company, and the CEO is an ass who thinks he’s smarter than us. We know he’s dirty, but he’s trying to frame his partner and is just a big mess.”

Aaron’s stomach sank. “Really? That’s,” he licked his lips, “that’ messed up.”

Alexander hummed. “The worst of all are their wives, you know? I mean, the clean guy’s wife is ruthless and straightforward, and she gave us everything we needed to prove his innocence, but the other one… honestly, I think that if it weren’t for his wife, the guy would’ve confessed.”

That sounded like Theo alright. He decided that day wouldn’t be the right time to mention his ‘friend’, and he started working on an appropriate departure that didn’t look like he was escaping.

“Hey, I’ll have to leave,” said the agent apologetically. “But how about we meet again some time? I could use a friend outside of work right now.”

“Sure, that would be nice. Let me give you my number? There, just text me whenever you’re free.”

“Okay.”

Agent Hamilton looked so happy it made the guilt in Aaron’s stomach grow, but it was too late to go back now. Besides, it was hard to regret anything when he’d had such a good time. He watched the agent go and wondered what the hell was he thinking. He saw him carelessly cross the street and looked away. Then, he got the check and went home, suddenly remembering he had left with the promise to bring something for Maria too.


	3. Chapter 3

On Sunday morning Aaron woke up to a message from Agent Hamilton. He stared at it for a while before doing anything, which was very foolish of him, but there was no one on the bed with him. He wasn’t used to spending the night in Theodosia’s apartment, so he really didn’t know of what consisted her routine, he just knew she was no longer there with him.

“What’s that?” asked the woman, standing by the door with a mug of coffee in each hand.

Aaron blocked the screen and put the phone back on the nightstand. “Nothing. Just…” he sighed, “a text. From the agent in charge of Mark’s investigation.”

Theodosia placed the mugs on her dresser and covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she giggled. “Oh, my sweet, sweet Aaron you actually did it! You are amazing!”

Aaron’s stomach revolved. He shook his head. “It was a coincidence, really.”

She climbed on the bed with him. “What does he say?”

“He wants to,” he swallowed and cleared his throat, “he was asking me if I wanted to grab lunch with him.”

She hummed. “You’re going to make me jealous.” She kneeled behind him and hugged his shoulders, pressing her chest against his back. “Figure out how much they got on him,” she whispered in his ear. “If they need a confession, then they have nothing, and I think that’s it, because they’re still trying to convince Mark to talk.” She bit his earlobe. “And stay here tonight.”

“Again?”

“Mark is in a prison cell until tomorrow, and I’m lonely.” She kissed his neck and slid a hand over his chest. “What? You want to leave? You’d rather staying with that agent?”

“No.” He swallowed. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Agent Hamilton was attractive, sure, and Aaron suspected he was gay, but that didn’t mean anything. He had said he could use a friend outside of work, and that’s what they were. So when the agent got to the diner after him, he didn’t stand up or anything, but nodded while the agent waved a hand somewhat timidly.

“Hey.”

“Agent, hi.”

“Could you call me just Alexander? It’s really weird to be called ‘agent’ all the time, especially on a Sunday.”

“Okay, Alexander.”

Alexander grinned brightly at him, and Aaron’s heart ached. He didn’t like lying to the man, for some reason. He figured he was still grateful about what he’d done for Maria back in October, and overall, he was a nice guy. He tried to think of it as a job, but it was hard to see it that way when Alexander was so authentic. He didn’t have a role to play there, he was supposed to be himself, and Alexander kept asking him stuff that a client never would, like about Maria’s wellbeing or even Abigail’s habits—apparently, his boss’s relationship with SAC Adams was getting serious—and it was so easy to talk to him.

He didn’t bring out his ‘friend’ though.

After they were done eating Aaron had to tell him he had a job that afternoon and would need to go directly to the agency. He was both, relieved and regretful that he didn’t have more time, so he didn’t hesitate for a minute when Alexander offered to walk him there. He never thought walking down the street with the agent could be so stressful.

Alexander wasn’t even looking where he was going, he just kept looking at Aaron and gesticulating wildly with his hands, talking fast. Aaron put his arm in front of him to stop him, and Alexander almost tripped.

“The light is about to change,” explained Aaron, pointing at the traffic light.

“Oh.”

Thankfully, there were only two blocks left. There, he waved a hand in goodbye and entered without daring to look back at the imprudent man, who left with a smile on his face, completely unaware of his own recklessness.

Happy people were even more reckless than usual, and Alexander was happy. Meeting the escort again had been fun. He didn’t have an excuse for being as happy as he was this time, but he didn’t care, and he didn’t think much of it. He always welcomed happiness, and if it came in the form of a person, well, what reason was there to complain? Besides, his job had gotten quite annoying lately. Earlier the next day they had to let Prevost go, which was more than frustrating. They knew he was guilty, but they didn’t have any proof, and yet, the guy had wanted to confess, he’d been about to when his wife interrupted them with a lawyer. Mrs. Prevost was, to say the least, an intimidating woman, and Alexander had no idea what else he could do with the case.

After the guy left holding his wife’s hand, Alexander nearly hit his head against the keyboard. He was punishing his idealess brain by staring at his blank screen when he received a text from his dad inviting him to get lunch together, which was probably the best he could do to clear his head a little.

He got to the diner they would meet in in minutes and sat down heavily, quickly forgetting all about his frustrations as he realized there was already food on the table. He thanked the man and proceeded to attack the salad.

George gave him an odd look. “What’s gotten into you?”

Alexander blinked and used a napkin as he felt his ears burning. “What do you mean?”

His dad crossed his arms over his chest and arched one eyebrow. “You’re very happy for someone that’s been complaining about a difficult case that is nowhere close to over. I haven’t seen you this happy since you and Laurens were together.”

“What? No. I mean, seriously? I’ve been happy since then!”

“I didn’t say that you haven’t been happy, I said you haven’t been _this_ happy,” he smirked. “Who is it?”

“No one!”

No one, no adult man had the right to look as imposing as George Washington did while eating a single fry next to a glass of strawberry juice with a green straw wearing an incredulous expression and a guayabera with a string of colorful flowers on one side. “No one?”

Alexander downed half his glass.

“Don’t eat so fast.”

“It’s not like that. I barely know him, I…”

“Ah, but there is someone.”

Alexander shrugged one shoulder. “I guess. I mean, sure, he’s gorgeous and smart and funny and it makes me happy to see him but it’s not that I _like—_ oh my god, I like him.”

George laughed cheerfully. It always made him happy whenever Alexander started a new relationship, no matter how many times they ended. It was contagious, and Alexander joined him in his laughter.

“Come on, tell me more about him. How’d you meet him?”

Alexander took a deep breath and signaled the waitress for another juice. “Oh boy, that’s a little weird. I mean, I was working a case, and after like, seven months of nothing, the cops call and say there’s a guy, a, an escort, that caught our perp in video ordering a murder.”

George arched one eyebrow.

“Wait, it gets worse.”

George threw his head back and groaned. “Why couldn’t they be just another freaky doctor?”

“Laurens wasn’t freaky.”

“All forensics are freaky. They stick their hands inside dead people’s bodies, Alexander. They can’t be normal. There must be something seriously wrong with them.”

Alexander chuckled. “Okay, I guess you’re right. Anyway, so the video ends up not being enough to get the perp arrested, but we can’t just forget it, right? I mean, the perp clearly put all his walls down while with this guy, so, we convince him, we _had_ to convince him because he wasn’t going on a second date with him, but we made him—”

“Wait, who did you have to convince?”

“The escort, dad! Pay attention!”

“Okay, okay, sorry, go on.”

“Okay, so we convinced him to go on a second date, and then on a third in which he would use a mic. And he did. And the perp kind of kidnapped him—”

“Sweet Jesus, Alexander!”

“I know, I know, but then we got a lot of crap on the perp and made the arrest and everything. Still, the escort had been kidnapped, so obviously I took him to get some coffee—”

“Obviously,” he grinned crookedly. “And the fact that he was, how’d you put it? _Gorgeous,_ had nothing to do with it.”

Alexander pouted just as the waitress brought him his second glass of pineapple juice. “I would’ve done it even if he weren’t.”

“Okay, so you went out for coffee, and then?”

“Then, I didn’t see him for like, a month. And I forgot, I swear I forgot about him, but in another job—”

“Oh my god.”

“No, no, nothing bad happened then. He just knew a person of interest for a different case, so we got together in another café and talked for a while. At the end I gave him my card because, well, I don’t know, he had helped a lot twice already so,” he shrugged one shoulder. “It made sense to me then.”

His dad hummed, probably remembering the incident of two months ago. “Okay, and I imagined that’s how he located you when his coworker went missing?”

“His best friend,” corrected Alexander. “Yeah. And, well, just the other day we met totally by coincidence and I finally got his number so early yesterday I texted him to see if he wanted to grab lunch and we did.”

George took a deep breath. “Son,” he swallowed, “it took you eight months to get this guy’s number? I thought your game was better than that, boy.”

Alexander blushed. “Well, I didn’t see him for a long time, okay?” He was hoping that from now on he could see him more often though. Now that he had his number, not only they could get together from time to time but they could also text. Alexander liked texting. He was generally good with words but writing them down before delivering them helped to make his speech even better. However, he never knew how to start a conversation out of nowhere. It was simpler when he was already close with someone, but with Aaron he wanted to be careful, just in case. The last thing he wanted was to end up blocked. So three days later, he still hadn’t texted him.

Aaron on the other hand didn’t have any strong opinions on texting. He liked it, sure, but he hadn’t stopped to think of its advantages. He didn’t stop to think of the best way to start a conversation either. He was bored out of his mind while his client kept getting into arguments with their waiter—who was obviously his ex—but Maria was working too, and her client was in a poetry reading so she couldn’t use her phone, and Theo simply told him she was busy. He wasn’t really expecting the guy would answer when he texted Alexander, but he did. And suddenly Aaron wasn’t bored anymore. Alexander Hamilton typed a mile a minute and yet never made a mistake. He used big words like ‘obstreperously’ followed by stuff like ‘ikr’ and ‘tbh’ and others Aaron wasn’t sure he knew what they meant, so really he wrote just like he talked, and Aaron liked it.

Alexander, not that long from the restaurant in which Aaron still was, stopped walking when realization hit him.

He _really_ liked Aaron. And since the ice was already broken, it became a habit for them to text the other whenever they were bored, which included Christmas Eve, to Alexander’s dismay—George and Martha didn’t chastise him, but he felt uncomfortable nevertheless. He met with them _to be_ with them, after all, but he was physically incapable of ignoring Aaron’s messages, not to mention to answer affirmatively to an ‘ _Are you busy?_ ’, especially when he thought of poor Aaron working in such a date. He had told him that he did it so he could take the day off on New Year’s Eve, when jobs were a lot more stressful, but Alexander couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just not work either day.

“They probably have a major demand on these dates, dear,” said Martha when they discussed it during dinner on the 31st. They’d been surprised he hadn’t been texting and were concerned his thing with the escort was already over—which spoke levels of Alexander’s history with relationships. But Aaron was just his friend, and Alexander was happy he was spending the night with some friends instead of getting bored with strangers that had to pay for company.

Aaron too was happy about that, though he didn’t exactly go out to party. That never had been much of his style, but in the last years Maria and he would at least go out to dance and drink for a few hours. That year was different. Maria was doing better, but they silently agreed that a night in with some movies and good food would be a more than pleasant way to start the new year, and they weren’t wrong. It was pleasant. And maybe his hand checked his phone more often than not, and maybe their choice of movies hadn’t been the most adequate, but he had a good time, and he didn’t think of Theodosia, who hardly had answered the phone in the last days, that much.

He normally didn’t miss her much, but he would’ve liked kissing someone at midnight. Maria kissed him on the cheek though, which was nice, and so it was to receive a text from Alexander wishing him a happy new year. Still, he didn’t see the guy again for over a week, which shouldn’t have felt so long but for a reason or another it did, even when they texted pretty much every day. He figured it was overly frustrating because it was him the one that was too busy to meet with the agent. That time of the year was always like that. People never spent the first week of the year by their own if they could afford some company. Theodosia found a way to visit him once but had to leave after only fifteen minutes. Needless to say, Aaron didn’t exactly enjoy it, but he tried not to overanalyze how that made him feel. Fortunately, on his second day off of the new year, Alexander was able to join him for lunch. He wasn’t expecting to receive a hug so late, but he wouldn’t complain.

For the first part, their lunch date went similarly to the one they had before, except their topics of conversation varied a lot more with how much they’d learnt of each other through their texts. Also, this time, Aaron had no intention of bringing Theodosia nor her husband up. He had made up his mind after his last encounter with the woman and reaffirmed it after he saw the agent’s smile.

Nothing was worth to lose that smile forever.

So logically, the moment that smile disappeared in the middle of lunch after he checked his phone, Aaron worried.

“You okay?”

Alexander shrugged and screwed his face in a grimace. “Just… received a text from my ex. We used to be very good friends and, well, he works at forensics, so we don’t even have to see each other that often so we’re trying to act like we’re still friends but it’s not really working.”

“That sounds awkward.”

“It is,” he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “He just texted me because of my birthday but really, he could’ve just posted a thing on my Facebook wall I mean, what’s the point in texting if all you’re going to say is _happy_ _b-day_?”

Aaron snorted. “Well, that depends. Would he write you huge paragraphs before?”

Alexander hummed. “I guess not, I mean, not as long as mine. But he used a lot of emoticons, though.”

“Well then,” Aaron ate a fry, “I guess hearts and smiley faces might be a little too much.”

Alexander nodded, though he seemed to find the idea amusing.

“But anyway, you should’ve told me your birthday was coming, I would’ve got you something. Now all I can say is awkwardly wish you a happy birthday from across the table.”

“You could always give me the rest of your fries.”

“Are you dying?”

“What?”

“Unless you’re dying, I will never give you my food, Alexander Hamilton. Get your own.”

Alexander cackled. “Damn,” he clicked his fingers. “One day I might be really dying, and you’ll have to give me some.”

“Or the day I give you some, you might get hit by a car and I’ll feel guilty for the rest of my days. Can you imagine?”

“Then how about you change that to ‘I won’t feed you until you win the lottery’ or something?”

“It’s too late for that, Alexander.”

“Who says that? We don’t make the rules!”

Aaron shook his head, and Alexander sighed heavily. Then, his phone rattled loudly against the table, and he groaned as he checked it.

“What?”

“My ex. I texted him ‘thanks’ and now he sent me a thumbs-up. This is ridiculous.”

Aaron chuckled. “That’s because staying friends with your ex is virtually impossible. Everything is awkward.”

“It’s not always like that. One of my best friends was my boyfriend for like a year in college. I mean, I guess things were kind of awkward for a while, but eventually we found a new rhythm and now things are great between us.”

Aaron hummed. “That speaks very well of both of you.”

“So you’re not friends with any exes? Wait, how do you even date? They don’t get jealous of, well, you know?”

Aaron snorted. “To be honest, I think only one of my relationships could be considered dating. If there’s any jealousy I usually ignore it. And no, I’m not friends with any of them.”

“But you don’t date people, so I guess your job kind of gets in the way, doesn’t it?”

Aaron pursed his lips. “It’s not exactly a problem.”

“But what about your last thing, why did it end?”

“Why do you care?”

Alexander looked panicky for a second. “I don’t. I mean, it’s just…”

Aaron chuckled. “It’s alright. Just, I kind of am seeing someone right now?” Was he? They’d been sleeping with each other for a year, and yet Aaron didn’t think he could put a name on whatever he had with Theodosia.

“Kind of?”

He bit his bottom lip. “She’s married.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah,” Aaron chuckled and stared at his empty plate. “So, my job isn’t really the problem.”

“I guess not,” Alexander giggled. “Well, now you know when my birthday is and that I’m a Capricorn, so I think I’m entitled to know when yours is.”

Aaron arched one eyebrow. “Entitled?”

Alexander shrugged. “Yeah.”

“February. I’m an Aquarius.”

“That’s soon. You need to give me the exact date so I can get you a present.”

Aaron smiled. He tried not to make much of his birthday, because it brought conflictive memories. Back when he was a kid, his uncle always made a huge deal out of it; he organized amazing parties where he invited everyone Aaron knew, got him extraordinary presents and more than one cake of three tiers at least each. It had been the same way ever since he moved in with him, but the year he turned thirteen things got even more extravagant. The last birthday he spent on California had been when he turned fifteen and one of the gifts had been a sports car. Aaron didn’t even like cars, and both, Sally and he, had drivers.

He had made him bleed many times before, but that night stayed in his mind as the worst one.

Still, Abigail never allowed him to ignore his birthday. She and Maria always got him presents and they ate cake in her office, which Aaron could handle. They never insisted on having a party, but they said one more year of life was always something to be celebrated. Whenever they said that, Aaron would think of his sister, and then he couldn’t complain. He never had said out loud why his own birthday made him anxious. He didn’t tell a shrink because in the one session they had, they didn’t go that far, and he didn’t tell Abigail because she knew more than enough. In the one relationship he’d had, when he’d been eighteen and Maria wasn’t working in the agency yet, he hadn’t even spoken of his uncle, though sometimes he thought Bellamy could tell. He could tell something was up, so when Aaron asked him not to do anything for his birthday, he hadn’t even questioned why. What he did, and Aaron never would’ve thought he needed, was hold him all night long. Not tightly, not loosely, just right; something that never could’ve reminded him of his uncle.

He knew Theodosia would never do something like that for him, so really, he should’ve been grateful when she ended up being too busy to even stop by.

“ _I’m sorry dear. I promise I’ll make it up to you, okay?_ ”

Aaron tried to smile and was grateful Theodosia couldn’t see his pathetic attempt. “Don’t worry. It’s okay.”

“ _Happy birthday, baby. I’m really sorry I won’t be able to see you._ ”

“Thank you. Really, it’s okay.” He wasn’t in the mood for what she liked anyway, and he tried not to be angry because of how regretful she sounded.

Birthdays shouldn’t be sour. Birthdays are for telling someone how glad everyone is that they exist. It’s to commemorate someone’s very first breath, and it should be all about that someone; what that someone liked, and what that someone needed.

Alexander liked Aaron, and the fact that he was seeing someone didn’t discourage him at all. Sure, he wouldn’t go and blatantly ask him out, but he wouldn’t try to hide his feelings either. And maybe Aaron would notice them, and maybe he wouldn’t, and if he didn’t, Alexander wouldn’t insist. Still, he would enjoy what little he could get.

Aaron was, of course, surprised to see him at his doorstep. “Alexander?”

“Hey, I didn’t know if you had plans, but I figured I could see you anyway. You’re twenty-five today, aren’t you?” He handed him a bag. “I feel old,” he chuckled, “but I think I still remember what I liked when I was your age.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “That was only four years ago, Alexander.”

“That’s like, an eternity.”

Aaron was usually very good at keeping his laughter in, and did so mechanically, even when it wasn’t necessary. His job, and his life before, had trained him to do so, because laughing at the wrong time or at the wrong thing could have consequences, but one couldn’t stop to consider such a reaction. Laughter was supposed to be spontaneous, so it was either to keep it in, or not to, and most of the time, he kept it in.

For some reason, he couldn’t do that with Alexander.

When he went to bed that night, after an afternoon with the agent, he didn’t even think of how Theodosia wasn’t by his side, because he was too busy remembering Alexander’s stories. He didn’t think of all the nights before that one. Never, for a moment that afternoon, did he remember the stress and fear that would consume him back in California, threatening to drown him.

He didn’t have any nightmares that night.

֍

Phone calls, just like many things in life, had their ups and downs. Through a phone call you couldn’t see the other person’s face, there was no body language to read, so on many times it was easier to lie, but it was also easier to be lied to. It was also easier to give bad news, and sometimes, to get them too, but it could also be tougher, with no physical support. Phone calls, however, had no right to be as upsetting as they sometimes were.

Aaron hadn’t spoken with Rhoda Edwards in over nine years, but the minute he picked up the phone, he was fifteen again and having trouble keeping the food down, even when the news she was giving him were nothing but good.

He was dead.

The man he had spent so many years hating, was dead. Timothy Edwards hadn’t been in Aaron’s life for a very long time, but he still gave him nightmares, and now that he really couldn’t get to him, Aaron suspected he would keep giving him nightmares. Some consequences simply couldn’t disappear, even when the cause lied six feet under.

A loud rattle, his phone against the kitchen counter, dragged him back to reality.

‘ _You busy?_ ’ read the text. It was from Alexander, and suddenly, Aaron’s chest wasn’t as heavy.

‘ _No,_ ’ he typed back. ‘ _You?_ ’

‘ _I was about to go grab something to eat. Want to join me?_ ’

Aaron wanted to, so he said yes. Texts were far better than phone calls.

“Hey.” Maria paused the movie she’d been watching in the living room and turned to face him, resting her elbow on the backrest of the couch. “I was thinking we could—are you going out?”

“Uh…” he eyed his wallet and keys in his hand and then back at his roommate. “Yes?”

She pouted. “And what I’m I going to eat?”

Aaron shrugged, helplessly.

She narrowed her eyes. “Where are you going? Today’s your day off.” She gasped before he could answer, and then giggled. “Are you meeting with Agent Hamilton?”

Aaron didn’t know why, but he felt his face warm. “Yes.”

“Have fun then.” She winked and rearranged herself on the couch, pressing play again.

Aaron left, and quickly forgot all about Maria. Alexander was waiting for him in a diner not far from his place, but the agent was already there waiting for him and Aaron hated to be late, even when it came to spontaneous things like this when it couldn’t be helped. That was the most likely cause for the uneasiness in his stomach, nothing more. Not the news he had just received. Not the _commands_.

‘ _You need to come at least for the reading of his will; that’s next week,_ ’ had said his aunt Rhoda.

Aaron didn’t _need_ to do anything. He was free. He was twenty-five years old and he had nothing to do with them. He was so frustrated he barely registered Alexander’s smile that usually had the ability to quickly bring one to his face.

Alexander frowned. “Are you okay? You seem… odd.”

Aaron shrugged one shoulder. He never talked about his past. He’d only done it twice in New York City, to Abigail and the shrink she made him see, but after that he never did, and he wasn’t going to start now. But that was his past, and he’d received a call about something that only happened recently. He didn’t need to give many details. “I got a call today, an uncle… an uncle I haven’t seen in many years died. I’m not sad, I didn’t much like him but… it’s… odd.”

Alexander nodded. “Sure. Since you’re not sad, I won’t say I’m sorry.”

Aaron snorted. “That’s okay.”

Timothy Edwards was an important lawyer from California, the manager partner of one of the oldest law firms in San Francisco, and when he ended up the only fatal victim of a bank robbery, it made the news. When Alexander saw it, his gut reaction was to be happy, but then he worried. He couldn’t know how Aaron would react—perhaps he wouldn’t even know, but… still, he figured checking on him discreetly would be okay; at least to ease his own mind. What he’d seen of him wasn’t enough to make him relieved—he wished Aaron couldn’t care less about it—but at least Aaron hadn’t been alone with his thoughts too long.

But Alexander couldn’t stay with him forever, and eventually, Aaron had to go back to his apartment. He couldn’t even force himself to focus on something else, since it was his day off. When his phone vibrated with an incoming message, he was irrationally angry because it wasn’t from Alexander.

It had been a long day. He really couldn’t take any of Theodosia’s shit right then. Besides, Maria would be home soon. He told her it wasn’t a good time for her to come, but she answered she was already downstairs and went up anyway.

He sighed before saying anything, and she rolled her eyes.

“If she’s going to be here so soon let’s go somewhere. Or can’t you tell her to wait?”

“No, I won’t tell her that. I’m sorry Theo, but today hasn’t been a good day.”

“Okay. I’ll leave soon. But first tell me, have you talked to the feds again? Do you know anything about Mark’s case?”

He bit the inside of his cheek and went to his bedroom. He should’ve known she would follow him, but it still annoyed him. “I can’t help you,” he spoke as calmly as he could, but he wanted to growl, wanted to yell at her. He rarely had those impulses, but he was tired.

“Sweetheart…”

“No, Theo,” he raised a hand to stop her chatter, “I can’t help you. Agent Hamilton is a good man and I won’t put his job in jeopardy here because you think it could help your husband.”

“His job is not going to suffer at all. If he goes and tells you something confidential that would be on him!”

“I’m not going to incite him to it. Forget it.”

“Sweetheart,” she tried to place her hands on his arms, but he took a step back. She frowned and placed her hands on her hips instead. “What is it with you today?”

He shook his head. “My mood today has nothing to do with it. I told you from the beginning that I didn’t want to do it, and now I’m just telling you again.”

“What? I ask you to help me save my husband from jail,” her volume had been increasing word by word, and by the last one, she was yelling, “and you tell me you won’t do it because you made a friend?! Don’t fuck with me, Aaron!”

“This isn’t about my friendship with him. If the only way to keep your husband from jail is through tricks, then I’m not going to feel guilty for not helping.”

Theodosia slammed the door on her way out.

“I don’t understand what you’re doing with her,” said Maria, who had been hiding in the kitchen for whoever knows how long. She sat down in her favorite chair in the living room and stretched her legs, crossing them at her ankles. “She’s mean.”

He shrugged and went to make himself some hot chocolate. He didn’t need to think about Maria’s words. He knew the answer but wouldn’t elaborate on it. Aaron simply couldn’t let go of people, even when they were hurting him. Not even his uncle. If Sally hadn’t dragged him away, he probably would still be living in California. And Theodosia wasn’t hurting him. She simply didn’t love him, and he didn’t love her, but it was fun being with her.

Most of the time, that is.

He got a goodnight text from Alexander and didn’t regret a single word. The next morning, he couldn’t remember his dream.

֍

He had two jobs scheduled for that Friday. The first one only lasted forty minutes and it was before noon; the second would last a bit longer, but it shouldn’t be too troublesome either—some sort of ceremony, the guy had only paid for two hours. Still, once his first job was done, he stopped by the agency before going for lunch, and as soon as he stepped in the lobby he was told that Abigail needed him in her office.

Aaron was never surprised to be called to Abigail’s office, and usually, whatever she had to tell him there didn’t surprise him either.

This time it did.

“That money is rightfully yours,” she said calmly from behind her desk.

He didn’t even know how she’d heard about it. He hadn’t told anybody, hadn’t even told Maria about his uncle’s death, much less about the inheritance he was supposed to receive.

“I don’t want it.” It wasn’t Aaron’s money. It was _his_.

“Aaron…”

“I’d have to speak with my aunt, wouldn’t I?”

“No,” she shook her head. “My lawyer can handle everything, don’t worry. I promised you, you’d never have to see those people again, didn’t I?”

Aaron tightened his lips and fists and swallowed. The idea of seeing that woman again was almost as sickening as it’d been to think of his uncle. _‘Oh, you poor, little rich boy,_ ’ she used to say, with a mean grin and a shake of her head, whenever he said he was hurting. And then, she would only squeeze harder.

Now he wasn’t little, and he wasn’t rich, but he was fine. He didn’t need their money. “We probably would need to prove is really me. It’s not worth it.”

Abigail pursed her lips. Honestly, she didn’t care about the money either, but she figured Aaron deserved it. Aaron had _earned_ it. And if he didn’t take it, someone else—probably more of those horrible people—would have it. “Have lunch with me today?”

All anger dissipated from his face, but he looked regretful instead. “I already made plans,” he bit his bottom lip. “But I could cancel…”

She waved a hand and rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Have fun. But I’ll take a raincheck, okay?” she winked, and was satisfied when he left with a smile.

Aaron rarely left Abigail’s office in a bad mood. That room was his safe space inside a safe building; he liked it better than his own dressing room. When he arrived at the restaurant in which he would meet with Alexander, he wasn’t exactly in a bad mood, but he wasn’t relaxed either.

“What’s on your mind?” asked the agent, ever so insightful.

He licked his lips and thanked the waiter that just then brought them their drinks. “Remember I told you my uncle died? Well, he left me some money.” He took a long sip of his diet coke. “I don’t want it and I don’t need it, but Abigail thinks I should get it.”

Alexander pursed his lips. “Well… you didn’t like being there, I imagine?”

Aaron shook his head.

“Why don’t you think of it as some sort of compensation? I’m sure that’s what your boss is thinking when she says you should get it. I’m sure you don’t even have to go—” he caught his tongue just in time, licking his lips with a slight frown, “where, where did this happen? Where was this uncle from?”

“California. I don’t think I’ve been to the west coast in years.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair, smiling tiredly to the waiter that brought their food this time. “Besides,” he grabbed his fork lazily, “my aunt wants me to be there for the reading of his will. I don’t even know exactly how much he left me, and I don’t need it. I don’t want to go there, and I’m busy—”

“You don’t have to convince anyone of your reasons for not going there,” said Alexander, interrupting him. “It’s just that simple. You don’t want to go. You don’t.”

Aaron stared at him, perplexed, for a moment. Then, just as he was about to say something, Alexander’s phone started ringing.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry. Please, pick up.”

Alexander checked the caller ID, grinned sheepishly, and picked it up. He didn’t leave the table to do so. He said: “Hey dad.”

“ _Son, I’m sorry to call you like this but you weren’t reading my messages. Did you have lunch already? Your mother stood me up._ ”

“I’m,” he looked down at the plate of noodles he’d been playing with, “actually having lunch right now, dad, sorry.”

“ _Oh. Are you there with Jefferson? Tell him I said hi._ ”

Alexander’s eyes had a special gleam when he redirected them at Aaron. “No, I’m not here with him.”

“ _Oh?_ ” It was possible to hear his smile in his voice. “ _Is it Mr. Gorgeous?_ ”

“Oh my god, please don’t call him that!”

George chuckled. “ _But you never told me his name!_ ”

“That’s it, I’m hanging up right now. Goodbye. Go have lunch by yourself. You’re an adult. You can do it.”

“ _Son—_ ”

He hung up and sighed heavily, brushing his hair backwards with a hand. He then palmed his pockets in look for a tie but didn’t find any.

“What was that?”

Alexander winced. “That was… that was my… my thing, my, my guardian? No, I’m not five, what is wrong with me. No,” he cleared his throat, “that was my dad. My adoptive dad, I mean, being an asshole. He wanted to have lunch but,” he looked down at his plate and shrugged.

“I kind of got that part.”

Alexander chuckled and scratched the back of his head. “I usually call him ‘dad’ but I never know how to introduce him. I never used his last name, so,” he shrugged, “it’s weird. I feel uncomfortable telling other people I’m his son.”

Aaron had heard him calling the man ‘dad’. He was the man’s son, he felt that way, but for some reason what other people might think made him uncomfortable. “How old were you when he adopted you?”

“Twelve.”

Aaron hummed. “And what was all the blushing about?”

The heat that had mostly abandoned Alexander’s cheeks came back with force. “Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. You were saying? You’re not making the trip to California? Are you from there as well?”

“Yeah. I grew up there. Came to New York years ago, though. I don’t really have anything there. I mean, my parents died when I was little, and I was never really close to the people I stayed with after.”

“Yeah, I get that. The part of not having anything there I mean. I grew up in Puerto Rico but moved to the city with my mom when I was like, ten, and I’ve never gone back, not since she died.” He never had a problem telling people his life story but being painfully aware of Aaron’s story without the guy knowing it, he felt pressured into giving him as much information about himself as he could, to even the playfield in some way. “I bounced foster homes for around eight months, and then George adopted me, hell if I know why. Martha’s a social worker, so maybe she heard from me, maybe she didn’t. But they wanted to adopt an older kid because it’s usually harder for them to get adopted.”

“And Martha is…?”

“Oh, right, Martha is George’s wife,” he scratched the back of his head. “I… I never met my father, so when I call George that, is okay. But my mom… she was my mom, you know? And she’s gone, but she’s always going to be my mom. And Martha’s great, but she’s, she’s someone else.”

Aaron nodded “Of course. I get it.” He couldn’t remember his mother, and his aunt Rhoda never had been one for him. He didn’t think he’d ever really used the word ‘mom’ to call someone. But he’d had Sally, and now… now he had Abigail, in a way. Still, he would never call her that, even when she had virtually adopted him before his sixteenth birthday.

Abigail treated him like a son, most of the time. She cared about his habits, his health, his job, his friends, in a way that before he met her only Sally had done, and he didn’t know how to thank her for it. She never let him. If he ever even thought of saying ‘thank you’, she brushed it off and told him to forget it. She had taken upon herself to make sure he was alright, because at the time she met him, she considered he needed someone to do it. He disagreed, but she never listened, and after a while, he stopped insisting. It was nice to have someone who cared, and Abigail cared. She cared a big deal. And maybe some wouldn’t understand, but it was her business, and her business alone. And maybe John would usually remind her that Aaron was not in fact her responsibility, but he understood she wouldn’t stop caring, and maybe that was something he liked about her. He visited often at the office after all, with anything but compliments on how she did things.

When he visited later that evening, he had a question: “Why is your lawyer inspecting those inheritance laws so intently? Who died?” He crouched to kiss her since she didn’t stand up from her desk.

“No one. I mean, yes, someone died, but he has nothing to do with me.”

He went to sit on the couch. “One of your workers?”

She hummed and kept her eyes fixed on her computer.

“And you’re helping them? That’s so nice of you. Oh.” His smile turned rueful. “Wait, it’s Aaron, isn’t it?”

She gasped and turned to glare at him. “I would’ve done it for any of my workers!”

“But it’s him.”

She sighed. “Yes.” She turned off her computer and stood up, arching her back and massaging her neck. “But he doesn’t even want it. I’m just seeing if there’s a way we can do it all without him knowing.”

“That’s virtually impossible, Abigail, without mentioning rude. But why doesn’t the runaway boy want the money? Is it dirty?”

“Nothing for your division.” She sat down next to him. “His family’s old money.”

“And he ran away? Damn. What was it, drugs? A forbidden love? The pursue of a career in the arts? More drugs?”

She glared at him.

“You really aren’t going to tell me?”

“Aaron was a good boy, but he was an orphan. He was raised by an uncle, and that’s the man that died.”

“But why did he run away?”

“Imagine your typical sob story where wealthy young orphans are send to mean relatives, you know, with your average abuse, and then add some of the other kind.”

John groaned. “The uncle?”

She nodded.

“There really was no way of putting the uncle in jail?”

She shook her head. “There was a case, and it didn’t end up well. The guy’s dead now, anyway.”

“Please tell me you got the kid some therapy.”

She rested her head on his shoulder and his hand flew to her hair, petting softly. “I convinced him, but he only went to a couple of sessions.”

“I imagine you have many other workers with similarly terrible backstories though.”

“Yes, but I didn’t meet any of them when they were teenagers. I didn’t pay for their sibling’s funeral either.”

“What?”

“Remember I told you he was at the hospital?”

“Jesus.”

She nodded. She was considering whether to elaborate on the story when John’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

He checked the message he’d just received and huffed. “I’ll have to go by my office real quick. I promise it won’t take us long.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s alright. I’ll go with you, though. There’s no way I’m staying in the car for who knows how long.”

John didn’t complain. He just had to pick some papers from his desk and having Abigail by his side was never inconvenient. His office was almost as neat as hers, though she always managed to find something out of place to tell him about, something he could improve, and he appreciated that. He liked to have her around, because that way he could be sure everything was working as best as possible. Sometimes he felt tempted to take her around the building, checking the people under his charge. He doubted even Jefferson could pass her test, let alone someone like Hamilton.

John Adams had given up on Hamilton’s desk a long time ago. He admired Thomas for being able to work so close to it. Sure, he had no idea how many times in the first year of them being partners Jefferson had arrived fifteen minutes earlier just so he could try to make some order. Hamilton, of course, hadn’t appreciated it one bit. Now they had reached some sort of balance, in which Hamilton did his best and Jefferson simply avoided to look at it. A couple of months ago he had made a paperboard screen so whenever he had to check something on Hamilton’s computer, the rest of his desk wouldn’t be in his field of vision. He had thought it was a wonderful idea, but Hamilton never agreed and always took it off as soon as Thomas placed it. So far, the only strategy that was bound to work was to stand against the desk, so the damn thing would be at his back. Sure, that meant there was always the risk his suit could get stained with one of the many snacks Hamilton kept there, but it was the only way of getting their job done when he had news to say, like: “We got something on Prevost’s wife.”

Alexander stopped typing immediately, turning to face his partner with a big grin on his face. “You’re kidding.”

Thomas shook his head. “Apparently she’s been cheating on the guy for a while now. If we can get some proof, he may consider stop listening to her.”

“Do we know who she’s cheating with yet?”

Thomas shook his head again. “All we have is Mrs. Church’s testimony, and she’s never seen him, she just knows he exists. We’ve been trying to get the building’s cameras all morning but since we have nothing on the woman, we don’t have a warrant and the doorman clearly likes her too much to say anything useful.”

Alexander bit the inside of his cheek trying to come up with a way of convincing the guy, or anything that would let them get their hands on those security cameras or the woman’s finances. Just then, he noticed someone who might have a good idea about to take the elevator. “Sir!” he yelled and hurried to his side with Jefferson following closely.

Adams sighed heavily, but the woman by his side smiled. It took Alexander a moment to realize she was Aaron’s boss. “What do you want, Hamilton?”

“It’s for the Prevost case, sir.”

“Prevost?” Abigail frowned, and her lips curved downwards.

Adams seemed surprised. “You know the guy?”

“I know his wife. I don’t like her.”

Alexander and Thomas shared a look.

“How’d you know her?”

She arched one eyebrow. “Why? Remember that my agency—”

“Yes, yes, we know. But has she hired you? We heard she’s been cheating on her husband. Maybe we could find a pattern or something. I mean, even a receipt from your place may convince the guy to talk.”

“You want to destroy a marriage for your case?”

“Abigail…”

She sighed. “I’ll see if I can get you a receipt. I really don’t like that woman anyway.”

“Why the hate, dear?”

“And can we know who she hired? Perhaps that’s the guy she’s having an affair with.”

She pursed her lips. “I very much hope not. I told him to stay away from her. She’s evil, and much older than him, and just…”

“Oh dear,” John grimaced. “So she hired Aaron, is that it? Abigail, he’s not your son, and he’s an adult.”

Thomas was the only one to notice Alexander had paled, but he didn’t have time to ask about it because then his partner said: “I got to go real fast, I forgot I had a thing. Jefferson can you finish here? Bye!”

Adams and Abigail waved at him but went back to what Jefferson shortly realized was a recurrent discussion between them, and he sighed. Alexander and he weren’t friends. He didn’t need to ask.

But he kind of wanted to.

Alexander always wore all his emotions on his face. It was a thing Thomas disliked about him. Adams and his new girlfriend left shortly after that, and so did he, trying not to think of his partner and focus on his far more important plans. It was Friday, and the Prevost case could wait while they figured out a way to tell the guy his wife was cheating on him. He was certain after that the man would confess, so he was finally a little relaxed, and Hamilton wouldn’t ruin it, not on a Friday. Friday was his date-night with James now, and he was happy. Sure, it took him forever to get ready and Patsy would walk by his room from time to time just to roll her eyes at him, but he was happy, and he wanted nothing but the doctor’s eyes and voice and lips competing for his attention.

Not that Hamilton was actively thinking of stealing Thomas’s attention. No, he had other, far more pressing thoughts in mind. The entire way to the escort’s place he made it in a daze, barely noticing where he was going, praying that it was all just a nasty coincidence, but he knew it couldn’t be. Life didn’t work that way, not his life.

“Alexander?” Aaron was surprised to see him, but he quickly stepped back to let him inside his apartment. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting to see—”

“You knew, didn’t you?”

Aaron stared at him, looking clueless for a moment.

“Aaron please don’t play with me, I know you know what I’m talking about! Did she ask you to talk to me? Was that, when you met me at the cafeteria in December right after we arrested him, was that on purpose?”

“No! No, I…”

“But you knew, when I told you about my case, you knew who I was talking about, didn’t you?”

“I… deduced it. But—”

Alexander huffed and started pacing around the room, running his hands through his hair. “I can’t believe I was so stupid!”

“Alexander…”

“Of course, I mean, why else would you even talk to me? You know, you must be really good at your job I mean, for a moment there I actually thought we were friends.”

“We are!”

“No, Aaron, we most certainly aren’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you though? Are you?” Alexander shook his head. “I don’t want your apologies. I just… I just wanted you to know that we know. And,” he swallowed, “and I want you to talk to Prevost. We’re going to tell him about his wife’s affair so he’ll stop listening to her.”

“What?”

“Yes. And if you have even a scrap of decency, you’re going to give us everything we need. I mean, wouldn’t that be convenient for you? With her husband in jail, you could be with her.”

Aaron shook his head. “Alexander…”

“I’ll have Jefferson call you tomorrow. Don’t leave town.”

Alexander left, and Aaron crumbled. He sat down on the couch, hugged his knees, and cried. He cried like he hadn’t done in a while. He cried until his shirt sleeves were damped, his eyes swollen, and his throat ached. He cried, and at first he didn’t even know why he was crying. He cried, because he was losing two of the most important people in his life, and he hadn’t eve realized how important they were. He cried because Alexander had said they weren’t friends, and because Theodosia would hate him. He cried because Alexander thought he had conned him, and he cried because it was true.

He couldn’t know for how long he stayed on his white couch, overthinking and remembering and imagining what would’ve happened if he’d done things differently.

֍

The thing is, there is no point in wondering ‘what if?’, but everybody does it anyway. James Madison would usually tell his patients that whereas it was common and that doing it often didn’t necessarily mean there was anything wrong with them, he didn’t recommend anyone to do it because really, picturing scenarios that would never happen could be very destructive. However, it was hard to follow that advice, even for him. The best way to avoid it was to be comfortable enough in your whereabouts to never question or fantasize with something different. He had known that in theory, but he didn’t think he'd ever been in a place where he could say he’d stopped imagining how different his life could be until he met Thomas.

Thomas Jefferson was not an easy man to be around, in theory. He wasn’t particularly charming, he had a difficult job and two daughters that constantly demanded his attention, and he had his own share of emotional baggage, but somehow none of that was ever a problem for them. Thomas was physically, mentally and emotionally strong, and such a foundation allowed him to stay firm against whatever crap life threw his way. James could do nothing but admire him for it, and wonder—even when he tried not to—why such a man would ever seek his company. Normally he would never voice those thoughts. His insecurities while toxic, were his and his alone, but Thomas somewhat always knew when something was wrong. He never asked, which James appreciated, but he still managed to reassure him, even when he had no way of knowing what James needed to be reassured about, and even when James didn’t _actually_ need to be reassured at all, which was probably what he found most both, charming and disconcerting. Because he couldn’t be sure if Thomas was only telling him he looked handsome because James had been feeling as attractive as a cucumber, or simply because he thought so, for Thomas would tell James he looked handsome _all the time_ , completely regardless of James’s mood.

James Madison had never been a confident person, and most of the time, Thomas’s words were nothing but endearments, the niceties one would say to those you care about, but sometimes… sometimes he would stare at his reflection in the mirror and think that maybe Thomas didn’t have that bad taste, and maybe the brown of his eyes was pretty, and maybe his lips were inciting, and maybe, just maybe, Thomas really would never get tired of him. The more time they spend together, the more that thought grew into something like hope, especially after Thomas formally introduced him to his girls as his boyfriend.

“ _I would like to use the word partner, but they would ask about my work-partner and just… just no,_ ” had said Thomas once the girls had gone to bed, and since James had already heard enough about Alexander Hamilton, he had winced in sympathy.

But he liked the girls, and the girls seemed to like him, so he tried to take their father away as little as he could, had even tried to bring them along each time they did something, so their Friday date-nights became something Thomas protected with all his being—and probably so did the girl he paid to stay with his kids, but James had only seen her once, so he didn’t say anything.

Therefore, he wasn’t exactly surprised by Thomas’s anger when his phone started ringing in the middle of dinner that night.

“Goddamn it, Laurens, what do you want?”

“ _Sorry to bother you man, but do you know where Alexander is? He’s not answering his phone._ ”

Thomas swallowed, his anger forgotten. “What? Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you. Didn’t you guys break up like a year ago?”

“ _A year and a half, and we’re friends. Look, I’m not the only one he’s not answering to. He turned off his phone, and Gil saw him earlier today at the grocery store and he was buying a lot of alcohol and just… I’m worried, okay? Do you know if something happened?_ ”

Thomas thought something had happened, but he didn’t _know_. He cussed under his breath. “I don’t know, Laurens, but I’ll check, okay?”

“ _Thank you._ ”

“What happened?” asked James. Sweet, understanding, great-in-bed James.

Thomas sighed. “Yeah. I believe my partner is trying to get drunk and forget about the world tonight, and his friends are worried.”

“Are you going to go check on him?”

“Do I have to?”

James arched one eyebrow, and Thomas sighed.

He’d only been to Alexander’s apartment a few times, but the doorman still recognized him and let him in, saying something about how his partner had looked depressed and he had worried. Once in the elevator, Thomas rolled his eyes. Of course even the doorman was concerned about Alexander Hamilton. That was the kind of person he was. Everybody cared about him.

He knocked on the door. “Hamilton? Hey, Hamilton, please let me in.” There was no answer. “Hamilton, come on man, it’s late. Let me in.” Still no answer, so he banged even louder. “Hamilton!”

He almost punched the guy in the face when he finally answered.

“What do you want, fuck.”

“Hamilton, are you drunk?”

“Is it illegal or something? I’m inside my apartment on a Friday night. Who cares if I’m drunk?”

“Tell me what happened, Hamilton. Why did you turn off your phone?”

“Did something happen?”

“Answer the goddamn question, Hamilton.”

“You first.”

“No. Nothing happened, but your friends are worried.”

Alexander snorted at his own stupidity, after for a moment he thought Aaron might have been worried. Aaron wasn’t even his friend, why would he worry?

“Hamilton—”

“Go away, Jefferson. You have work tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“Tomorrow, Aaron Burr will go convince Prevost he’s been sleeping with his wife for a while now, and you’ll need to get a confession.”

Thomas frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why me?”

Alexander glared at him. “Well isn’t it your case too, man?”

“I thought Aaron was your friend.”

“Well he’s not.”

Thomas looked around the room and decided to turn on some lights. He then went to grab two glasses of water, placed them on the center table in the living room, and sat on the couch. “Come here, Alexander.”

“What are you doing here, Thomas? We’re not friends.”

“Yes, we are, Alexander. Three years ago, God knows I couldn’t stand you but now we’re friends. Now bring your ass here. You need to drink some water.”

“I’m not drunk.” Not yet. Jefferson interrupted him while he was getting there.

“It doesn’t matter. Come sit with me, Alexander Hamilton.”

Alexander, though reluctantly, did.

“Now drink your water.”

“I’m not a child!”

“Drink your goddamn water, Alexander.”

Alexander did.

“Now tell me what the hell happened. You paled when Miss Smith said Aaron better not be dating Prevost’s wife. Why?”

“Why are you calling him ‘ _Aaron_ ’? You always call him Burr.”

“You call him Aaron, and you talk about him all the damn time, Alexander… what happened? Didn’t you know he was in a relationship?”

“Oh, I knew alright. I knew she was married and everything. What I didn’t know was that the whole reason he ever talked to me again was her idea.”

“What?”

“Yeah. It was never an accident, us getting closer. That was all Theodosia Prevost making her boytoy play with the FBI agents to get to know exactly what we know.”

“Alexander, that’s your jealousy talking.”

“He admitted it!”

Thomas rubbed his jaw. “Alexander… I know you care about this guy. You’ve been talking and getting lunch together and texting for months now. You really think it was all an act?”

“That’s literally his job, Thomas.”

“No,” he shook his head, “no, and you know that. His job is to pretend for a couple of hours, not three months.”

Alexander shrugged. “A little overtime means nothing.”

“Alexander, be sensible, please.”

“Just promise me you’ll deal with him tomorrow, could you?”

Thomas sighed. “Sure.” He didn’t know what else was there to say, but he stayed a long time after, just sitting there, in silence. Alexander was insufferable, but he was also his friend, and it was upsetting to see him that way. He texted James to tell him he would stay and leave their lunch for Sunday, since he apparently would be busy the next day as well, and James, bless his soul, told him not to worry and even gave him some advice on how to deal with Hamilton. It still sucked, so the next day, he was _angry._ He never thought he’d feel so defensive of someone as insufferable as Hamilton, but he was nevertheless, and when Aaron Burr arrived, he was ready to let all his anger free.

Thomas wanted to at least glare at the guy, but it was a little hard to do so when he looked even worse than Alexander had looked the night before. He swallowed and extended his hand, most of the fire of his fury cooling down embarrassingly quick. Well, Hamilton and he weren’t the _best_ of friends, after all. “Mr. Burr, it’s been a while. Thank you for coming.”

Aaron nodded weakly. “Hello. Uh, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do?”

“Well, we’d like to convince Prevost of his wife’s affair. If you could provide us with evidence or—”

“Yeah,” he checked his phone with trembling hands, “yeah, here,” he handed it to him, and Thomas arched his eyebrows.

“Yes, I believe that will convince him.” It was a nice picture, cute even; a selfie that showed the woman resting her head in Burr’s shoulder, who looked at least partially naked while she had what looked like his shirt on. He cleared his throat. “Thank you. Uh… if you give me a minute to copy this…”

“Sure. There are more.”

“I imagined.” He went to his desk and connected the phone but kept an eye on the guy. He looked like he hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before and wouldn’t stop moving. “She knows you’re here?”

He hugged his sides and shook his head.

“It’s not going to be pretty when she hears it.”

“No, it won’t.”

“She’s a little mean, isn’t she?”

Aaron shrugged.

Thomas sighed and rubbed his neck. “You know what? This can wait. Did you have breakfast?”

“What?”

“Cause I haven’t. Let’s go grab something to eat.”

“I don’t…”

The agent merely stared at him, but the message he was sending wasn’t clear to Aaron. He wasn’t ordering him around, but he wasn’t asking either, and he was too exhausted to fight it. He sighed and without another word followed the man to a diner not a block from there.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“What makes you think I want to talk? I just wanted to eat something.”

“Mr. Jefferson…”

Thomas sighed. “You look like shit.”

Aaron blinked, and Thomas had to acknowledge that the guy had a great poker face. “Thanks.”

“My partner was a mess last night.”

Aaron swallowed.

“And it’s your fault.”

“I tried apologizing.”

Thomas shook his head. “He doesn’t need an apology.”

“That’s what he said.”

“Did he tell you what he needs?”

Aaron frowned.

Thomas sighed. “What kept you up last night?”

“I don’t—”

“Was it her, or was it Alexander?”

It was both. It was her anger, it was _his_ anger; it was her future reaction and it was his; it was the sheer knowledge that she had kept him around as long as he did what she wanted and that now that he would stop, she would despise him. It was that, if Theodosia had left him earlier, he knew he would’ve called Alexander to cry on his shoulder and now he couldn’t. It was because, if Theodosia had left him earlier, he might have done more than cry on Alexander’s shoulder. It was because he knew he should’ve left Theodosia a long time ago. Aaron stared at his coffee.

“Because if it was Alexander… if it was Alexander, then I’m going to give you his address, and you’re going to get your ass there, and fix it.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Figure it out.”

Aaron swallowed and nodded.

Agent Jefferson sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair while he wrote on a napkin with the other. “There,” he passed him the napkin. “I’ll call his doorman so he’ll know to let you in.”

“Thank you.”

“Just fix my partner, Burr.”

Burr stood up still looking unsure, and then sat back down.

“What?”

“I think I should speak with Prevost first.”

Thomas wanted to argue, but he sighed and nodded. “Sure. Let’s do that first.”

His following conversation with Mark Prevost was short. Aaron would’ve liked making the whole thing easier for the guy, but he didn’t know how. He sat in front of him and tried not to look at him with pity as he told him that he’d been sleeping with his wife for almost a year and a half, always aware of him, including as many details as he could remember to make sure the guy believed it. For a moment, he considered mentioning how much Theodosia loved her husband, how much she cared about him, but he didn’t. He tried telling himself he wasn’t doing it because the whole point of him speaking with the guy was so he would stop listening to her, but he knew the real reason he didn’t was because he was angry at her. He couldn’t help thinking that if it hadn’t been for her, Alexander wouldn’t hate him. The guy was more shocked than anything else. He’d been furious at one point, but the feeling that seemed to rule him was the one of despair, and it most certainly wasn’t directed at him. As soon as the guy seemed convinced enough, Aaron exited the room and shortly the building, holding the napkin inside his pocket even though he’d already memorized the address. He hadn’t really believed the doorman would simply let him in, but he did, and before he knew it, he was knocking on Alexander’s door. He waited a moment, but since he couldn’t hear anything, he tried again a little louder and was startled when the door opened suddenly and brusquely.

“Thomas, I swear…” Alexander stopped abruptly when he noticed who really had been knocking, and then proceeded to close it.

Aaron held it before he could. “Wait. Alexander, please, let’s talk.”

“What makes you think I want to listen to you? Get out!”

“Alexander please…”

Alexander stopped pushing the door, but didn’t move away so Aaron could get in. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know. I just know that I can’t, I need you to know it was more than an act, please just…”

“Why should I care about what you need? You’ve been lying to me for months and—”

“No, I haven’t! You must know that. I was never acting! I…” he swallowed, “she wanted me to talk to you, yes, but I never… that was just an excuse, Alexander I… do you honestly believe everything was for her?”

“Yes.”

Aaron’s throat closed, and he could tell his eyes filled with tears, so he stared at the floor. He nodded jerkily and took a step back. “Okay, I… I guess I’ll just leave then.”

Alexander ran a hand through his hair. He was maybe angrier than the night before, because Aaron’s tears looked _so real_ and he wanted to hug him and kiss him and hold him and tell him everything would be okay, even when he knew it couldn’t. “No, Aaron, wait. Get in.” He stepped aside. “Get in, just… fuck. I don’t get you.” He watched the escort walk until the middle of the living room and stand there, hugging his sides even when it wasn’t cold at all. Alexander couldn’t tell if the flow of tears had stopped, but he think it did. “What are you doing here? Why do you care?”

“How can you ask that? Alexander you—”

“Did you go to the burau yet?” Alexander interrupted him coldly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes. Prevost will talk.” As Alexander approached him slowly, Aaron’s feet tried to get him away, but he stayed where he was standing and took a deep breath. “Don’t worry.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing here?”

Aaron stared at him helplessly. Was there really no point in doing what he was doing? Maybe there wasn’t. He swallowed and fixed his gaze on the floor again, for he didn’t know how much longer he could keep his tears in.

“No.” Alexander was suddenly much closer. He gently put his hands on Aaron’s bicep but didn’t try to get him to raise his head. His voice was softer too. “Aaron, what are you doing here, when your _girlfriend_ is probably furious at you? Shouldn’t you be trying to fix your situation with her?”

To fix, as if there was anything to fix. Aaron snorted and made the mistake of raising his head, finding he was merely inches away from Alexander, whose expression now was one of honest concern. “She’s never going to forgive me. What’s the point? Besides…” _she never thought as highly of me as you did_ “she’s probably busy.”

“I will never understand you. Don’t you care at all? Don’t you love her?”

Love? Aaron didn’t think he knew what love was, and that broke him. He covered his face with his hands in a poor attempt to hide his tears.

“Aaron…” Alexander’s heart broke. It didn’t matter how angry he was, he couldn’t see those shoulders shaking violently and not do anything. He hugged him, and Aaron clenched to his back. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t cry. I’m sure she’s going to forgive you.”

“I don’t _love_ her, Alexander,” confessed Aaron loudly and angrily, though the sound was slightly muffled since he was still pressing his face against the agent’s chest. He separated slightly so he could meet his eyes, though none of them let go of the other. “To whom am I apologizing now?”

It couldn’t mean what Alexander wanted it to mean. It couldn’t. Aaron had lied to him for months, he’d only been part of a plan, Aaron… Aaron was right there. He was right there, and he was crying, and he was trying, and he wasn’t with her, he was with him, and… “I’m going to kiss you now,” said Alexander.

Aaron’s sobs stopped. “What?”

Aaron’s foggy mind couldn’t get a grip on the situation, but Alexander was no longer yelling at him and that, in addition to the hands firmly placed in his hips and the mouth slowly but surely devouring his, was enough to turn his now relaxed body to jelly. He had to hung to Alexander’s neck to stay standing, although his mouth was functioning on autopilot, so it didn’t turn out to be a problem. Still, the more Alexander’s hands wondered, the more his legs trembled, and by the time Alexander’s mouth was on his neck and a bulge became noticeable against his right hip, Aaron’s legs didn’t feel like they could hold him. How Alexander could tell what was going through his mind, he didn’t know, but just in time he slid his hands behind his thighs and pulled him up as if Aaron was as light as a feather. He never had stopped to think how hot that could be and yet it went straight to his cock. He almost complained when Alexander’s mouth was no longer touching him.

Gasping, Alexander pressed their foreheads together. “I’d like taking this to the bedroom, if you want?”

Aaron was mentally drained, but if Alexander didn’t start touching him again soon, he would be very disappointed. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Alexander for once didn’t want to overthink anything. There was no room inside his mind for making any more questions, no time to wonder if things were going too fast or if they were on the same page because Aaron was _right there_ in his arms and he was gorgeous and he was responding oh so nicely and Alexander had been waiting so long when maybe he shouldn’t have since Aaron didn’t love the woman but he…

He was there, with Alexander, and he had apologized, so how could Alexander not forgive him? How could he stay mad when sweet, sweet Aaron looked so lovely completely naked on his bed? How could he stay mad when he would suck on his fingers so greedily and he would cross his legs at his ankles behind Alexander’s back to trap him there and keep him close, always close, while he made the most delightful noises? Alexander was on heaven, and with his hands and tongue he made sure to have Aaron right there with him, where he wouldn’t let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn it, boys, talking is important! But well, they're halfway there, aren't they? Thanks for reading this far, the end is close! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated and they definitely make me write faster!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took me a while! I'm so sorry. I honestly thought everything would fit in one chapter but it didn't. I'd like to promise you the next chapter will be the last, and that's my plan. Who knows, though! Hahaha

_He was sitting on the same café he’d been with Alexander many times. He was in their usual table, and their usual waitress, though her hair was weird, was cleaning a few feet away. However, he wasn’t with Alexander. At first he thought he was, but when he turned to face the person sitting in front of him, it wasn’t._

_It was Sally._

_“Look at me. I got you out of there, didn’t I? We’re going to be fine. From now on, I want you to promise me that you’re only ever going to sleep with someone if that’s what you want to do. Not to get something in return. Not because you’re afraid, or you need something, or the other person needs anything, okay?”_

_He nodded, but then they weren’t sitting on the café. They were walking down the street, and a car skipped a red light, and then…_

He woke up with a start, grasping for air. He wasn’t in his room. He didn’t know where he was.

“Aaron?” slurred Alexander, half asleep next to him.

_No_. He felt panic crippling up his spine and hurriedly grabbed his pants from the floor. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and his hands were shaking, while one word repeated itself over and over at the back of his mind.

_No_.

He could tell Alexander was moving or talking but he didn’t listen, he felt trapped and so _wrong_ that he just knew he needed to get out of there, but he couldn’t find his shirt, so he locked himself in the bathroom.

Outside, Alexander simply stared at the locked door for a moment, disoriented and concerned. He put on some pants, a shirt and found Aaron’s shirt near his, on the floor, so he picked it up too. He stood in silence for an instant, just in case he could hear anything coming from the bathroom, but he couldn’t hear a thing. He went to the kitchen and started to make coffee with his phone calling on top of the counter. He only took it to his ear once they’d picked up.

“ _What do you want, Alexander? It’s six in the morning—_ ”

“I need to talk to your boyfriend.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Thomas, I’m not playing, I fucked up. I need a shrink ASAP.”

“ _Fuck. Okay, but he’s not with me now. I’ll call him. Give me a minute._ ”

“Thanks.”

Then his doorbell rang. He groaned.

“Is he here? I’m not going to kill him, I swear.”

“Shit. Mrs. Prevost, now’s really not the time.” It was freaking six in the morning it most certainly was not the time and she knew it. She probably had planned to wake them up.  He didn’t want to think how she had gotten his address.

She studied him with an arched eyebrow. “Is he freaking out?”

“That’s a thing he does?” inquired Alexander weakly. He wasn’t complaining. He just wanted to know how to handle it.

“Not really.” She shrugged one shoulder and looked around. “Alright. I’m out of here.”

“Wait, no, no, no. Tell me what to do!”

“Are you kidding?”

“At least tell me what’s going on!”

She rolled her eyes. “What do I know? Do I look like a shrink to you?” She huffed and placed her hands on her hips. “Was it like a transaction?”

“What? No!”

“Listen to me. I’m not talking about money. I mean _transaction_ , as in, did he get anything out of it? _Anything_. A present, an offering, a word he wanted to hear…”

“Forgiveness?”

She arched one eyebrow.

“Oh, fuck,” he ran a hand through his hair.

“Good luck.” She waved a hand and turned around to leave.

“That’s really it? You’re leaving?”

“What do you want me to do? My husband is facing life in prison, Agent. I need to see if there’s anything I can do, even if he doesn’t want my help.” She still loved him, in a way. And sure, she cared about Aaron, but he was a _boy_ , a very damaged boy, and the agent in front of her seemed a lot more willing to handle it than she’d been.

He nodded but he was still frowning.

She sighed. “You want to take care of him, so do it. He could use that. Besides, he definitely likes you. He was very clear when he told me there was no way he could help Mark the other day.”

“He did what?”

She rolled her eyes. “He didn’t tell you he did that? Wow. He’s very shitty at saying sorry, isn’t he?”

He absentmindedly nodded and barely registered when she left, closing the door on her way out.

“Aaron,” he knocked on the bathroom’s door, “hey, I’m just going to talk from this side, okay?” He cleared his throat and sat on the floor, resting his back against the door. “Okay. So last night. Last night you said… you told me you didn’t love her. Remember? And I, being the fool in love I am, decided to interpret it to my convenience. I’m sorry. Aaron, I’m so sorry. I… I wish I could tell you I would never hurt you, but I already did. I didn’t realize, I… I’m sorry. For a moment there I thought you felt the same and I was so happy I—I’m sorry. There is no excuse but—shit!” he fell on his back when Aaron opened the door.

Aaron gasped.

“I’m okay!” He straightened and kneaded the back of his head. “I’m okay, I… hey,” he stood up and bit his bottom lip, “how are you doing?”

Aaron chuckled. He was smiling, but his face was red and swollen. “Better.”

Alexander offered him his shirt, and Aaron put it on.

“Alexander, I’m not upset because of you, I’m upset because of what I did.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I mean, I know that’s just _typical_ in victims, but I was the one—uh, no, I mean, not that you are, I mean,” he licked his lips and cleared his throat, “I mean you, I mean…”

Aaron frowned. “Did you… Alexander, what do you know about me?”

“What?”

“Alexander.”

“Okay, I… I just know that there was a case and it got dismissed. I’m sorry. I made a background check on you, but it was a long time ago, when you were just a witness for the Wilkinson case. I know I should’ve told you, but I didn’t find a reason to do it then. I’m sorry.”

“I think I should go.”

Alexander wanted to tear his hair out. “Wait. I get it. You can leave whenever you want but I really think we should talk about this. Please.”

Aaron hurried to the bedroom to collect his things.

“Aaron…”

“I can’t.” He sat on the bed to put on his shoes. “I can’t look at you right now, Alexander. I’m sorry. We can talk later, just…”

“Okay. Just promise me we’ll do it, okay? You tell me when you’re ready.”

Aaron took a deep breath before turning to see Alexander. He nodded. “I’ll call you.” In the hallway he didn’t even glance at the elevator. He took the stairs and appreciated the dark and the lack of mirrors. The doorman was not the same of the night before. He just nodded and left. Outside, the wind hitting his face was relieving. He hugged his sides and looked around for a taxi, hoping the driver wouldn’t be in the mood to talk so early on a Sunday.

Before giving the address, he considered it. Maria was in his apartment, and she would definitely ask what was wrong. Abigail’s apartment was always a choice, and he knew she wouldn’t make any questions, but he wanted to climb under the covers of his bed and cry, so he went home.

When he made it there, it was barely over seven in the morning, but Maria was awake, getting breakfast wearing her cozy pajamas. When she heard the door, she turned with a smile, but it vanished the moment she saw him.

“Aaron? Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“It’s a very long story.”

Maria frowned. “Okay. I have time. Would you like me to get you something to drink?”

He nodded.

“Okay. Wait for me in the couch, come on. You look exhausted! Where did you sleep? Did you have a bad dream last night?”

_The car skipped a red light._

He shivered and nodded.

“Okay. You want to tell me what it was about? Sometimes that helps.” She made her way to the kitchen and kept talking from there. “We could try to figure out what it means.”

He smiled dejectedly. “I already know what it means.”

“You do?”

He nodded and received the mug she handed him when she came back. “It was a memory. A bad memory, after I made a promise that I broke last night.”

“What happened last night?”

Aaron shook his head. “It won’t make sense like that. I told you it was a long story.”

“But you came here because you want to tell me, didn’t you?”

He did.

“I never told you how I came to New York.”

“I never did either.”

Aaron sighed and threw his head back. “My sister took me with her the year she was admitted to college. She basically kidnapped me after Thanksgiving, really, but my aunt and uncle agreed we didn’t need any more scandals. You see, just the month before the case against my uncle had been dropped.”

“What case?”

He took a long sip of his coffee. “The case against him for sexual abuse.”

“Oh, shit.”

“A case in which the victim… was me.”

She gasped and squeezed his hand. “Jesus, Aaron…!”

“She had a good scholarship, but after she took me, they stopped sending her money. We were discussing what we could do one night, and… for one thing or another, she made me promise I would never sleep with someone to get something in return. She died that very same night, in an accident.” He swallowed and didn’t dare to look at Maria’s face. “Last night, I kind of broke that promise.”

“Why?”

“I wanted him to forgive me.”

“Aaron… Aaron, sweetie, look at me.” She grabbed both of their mugs and placed them on the coffee table. “Look at me, please. Do you regret it? Whatever you did last night? Wasn’t it worth it?”

Alexander forgave him.

Alexander had known about the lawsuit against his uncle for almost a year. He had known before his uncle died. Hell, when Aaron told him about him dying he probably knew he was the uncle he was talking about.

Alexander said he was a fool in love.

He pressed his palms against his eyes to try to keep the tears in. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I freaked out this morning and he apologized even though he barely knew what was going on. He didn’t do anything wrong and he still apologized, and he said he’s in love and I… I think I’m in love too.”

“Sweetie…!” She cradled his head between her arms and dropped a kiss on top, just holding him like that for a moment. “But last night, before you thought about the promise, what were you thinking about?” She let go of him and leaned back. “Was it all about getting his forgiveness, or did you stop thinking of it? Did you enjoy it, or did it feel forced? That’s what matters, honey. If all that was on your mind was that goal, or was it, well,” she blushed, “what you were doing,” she giggled awkwardly.

Aaron dried his cheeks with his hands. “Well…” at first it had been about that. He swallowed. After a while, it had become very hard to think of anything at all. “No. No, after a while I guess I wasn’t thinking of it.” After a while, all he could think about was getting more. More of Alexander’s hands and mouth and tongue and dick on him. More of his voice, of his gasps and his eyes and teeth, all for him, over him, to drown in them. It had almost been healing.

She nodded. “Then you didn’t break your promise, silly. It sounds more like you got yourself a boyfriend. I mean, it doesn’t matter how good you are in bed, no one will forgive someone just over that. I mean, you could try, but once the sex was over they would surely still be mad.”

Aaron’s heartrate accelerated. “But now I’m a little mad at him.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because he… back when I was a witness for the Wilkinson case, he… he made a background check on me. And then when we got closer he never told me how much he knew. I feel so… exposed.”

“Oh, shit.”

He nodded and stretched a hand to recover his coffee. “I said I would call him though.” He handed hers to Maria.

She arched one eyebrow. “Did you, now?”

“I wanted to leave, and he said he understood but we should talk so I said I would call him.”

She put a hand against her chest. “Oh dear, you found like the one non-asshole out there. If I weren’t gay I’d ask him out.”

Aaron snorted. “And remember he’s the reason the cops found you. He’s your savior,” he bit his bottom lip, “and he’s good in bed too.” He had known everything there was to know about Aaron, how dirty, how damaged he’d been, and yet he never did anything that made Aaron feel like there was something wrong with him. He only ever did the opposite.

He didn’t regret asking Maria to move in with him. He squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. What are friends for?”

It’s a nice thing, having friends. The amount of love and trust in the relationship can determine whether they’re only around when things are fine (when trust is lacking) or only when things are bad (when love is lacking) or on both, which is the optimal, healthiest, most difficult one to develop, but it’s definitely worth it, if not necessary, for a person’s happiness. Until Maria, aside from Abigail and Sally, Aaron didn’t think he had anyone like that, and he was grateful to have her. Distractedly, he hoped Alexander had someone like that too. He’d heard him talk about many friends before, but he’d never met them, and couldn’t tell what kind of relationships they were.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Aaron knew Agent Jefferson, and he thought they were friends. Clearly, the man cared about Alexander. He didn’t know how much they shared, but at least they had each other’s backs.

Jefferson’s boyfriend called Alexander a minute after Aaron left. It had been a little awkward at first. Alexander had never met him. But the guy clearly was good at his job because, even through the phone and yawning every three minutes, he managed to ease Alexander into retelling exactly what had happened.

Once he finished, the doctor’s deep, tender voice muttered: “ _Well… it seems to me like there’s probably something else._ ”

“What do you mean?”

“ _I believe you acted well. Now all you can do is wait for him to call you. He was going to tell you why he was upset, and he probably will. It’s just a hunch, really, but I think whatever that was is not directly connected to the abuse you read about._ ”

Alexander frowned. “Really? You mean there’s _more_?”

He thought he could hear the doctor’s smile through his voice. “ _Would that be a problem?_ ”

“No,” replied Alexander right away, with no hesitation.

“ _Then let me tell you that a person rarely has only one terrible episode in their lives. And many times, the hierarchy of those episodes is very different from one person to another._ ”

Alexander didn’t want to think that there was something worse, according to Aaron. He swallowed. “Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry for waking you at this hour.”

“ _Don’t worry about it._ ”

“Oh, and… you really make Thomas happy, you know? So… thanks for that, too. If you ever hurt him, I know where Thomas keeps the list of your allergies.”

“ _That’s… oddly specific, I’m slightly scared._ ” He cleared his throat. “ _Well. Have a good day, Agent Hamilton. I hope everything will be okay with Mr. Burr._ ”

“Yeah, you too have a good day.”

The call ended, and Alexander sighed, sliding down the wall he’d been supporting himself against. On the floor, he rested his forehead on his knees and groaned. He never liked waiting; he wasn’t good at it. Waiting brought uncertainty and wasted time and he didn’t have time to waste. Time was such a precious thing, and people never valued it enough. The people in his life never did. They never understood. They never understood that nothing was ever guaranteed; not safety, not love, not health. He gulped and tried to raise his head when he felt the roof coming down on him. He knew he had opened one window. He needed to find that window, at least look at it, but his legs were shaking, and he didn’t feel like he could stand. So he threw his head back and smashed it against the wall.

The room was spinning, but the ceiling wasn’t falling anymore. He stood up and went to the kitchen to get some coffee.

He wondered if Aaron was as aware as him of how ephemeral, perishable everything was. He hoped he was, but he wouldn’t ask. He burned his tongue with the first sip of coffee, but that was alright. It grounded him. Aaron said he would call, and Alexander believed him. He just couldn’t know when. But he wouldn’t spend hours waiting for it. He finished his coffee, burning his tongue, throat and esophagus in doing so, and then hesitated at the bathroom door. Maybe he should simply stay on the couch, get some job done, maybe even watch a show or a movie. A shower probably wasn’t a good idea. Alone with his thoughts and away from the phone didn’t sound like a good idea. He still did it. Sometimes bad ideas needed to be done anyway. Besides, he could use some time to think back to all the things he needed to do, like what groceries he needed to get and the cases he was working on. Even if Prevost confessed, he still had many other perps that weren’t doing it and many others weren’t as simple as to get solved just with that. Most of the cases he still had open were months old, with a few exceptions, and then there was…

He heard the distant sound of his phone and jumped out of the shower, making a mess but he didn’t care. He barely remembered to stop the running water, so when he got to his phone and realized it was just Lafayette, he swore out loud.

“Damn it, Gil, I was in the shower. I thought it was something important!”

“ _You don’t know if this is important!_ ” replied his old friend.

Alexander rolled his eyes. “Is it?”

“ _Well, no. I mean, kind of. Are you free tomorrow?_ ”

It was not important, but it took a long time and forty minutes later Alexander was still wearing nothing but a towel and he was pretty sure his lips were purple. He figured it had been good to clear his head a little bit, but he had told his friend at least five times that if he got an incoming call, he would hang up immediately, so he didn’t know how much it had helped. Lafayette was a good friend though, so it didn’t cross his mind to refuse to hear him out about his plans to propose to his boyfriend. Once that was over, he wished the time on his phone were a lie, but less than two hours was not a long time, and Aaron had said they would talk _later_. Alexander hated that word; it was such an ambiguous term! It was still early though. He checked his fridge and tried to come up with a menu for the day but he kept wondering if Aaron would want them to get together for a meal. He wished he would, but he doubted it. He wanted to tear his hair out; he really wasn’t good at waiting. He didn’t like to leave things for others to control. He never waited for others to decide when something affected him. He never waited for others nor fate nor God to toss him around. But this time, he had told Aaron that they would talk whenever _he_ was ready.

It affected Alexander, but it wasn’t up to him.

It was difficult, but he hoped that if he was patient, he would be rewarded. In his room, he stared at his unmade bed and hesitated. After a moment, he decided he could lie on top of it for a while.

It smelled of Aaron. Aaron and him, together.

He needed to be optimistic. He replayed the events of the night before in his head time and time again, and he was sure that Aaron had enjoyed it. He said he wasn’t mad at Alexander, but then again, victims of abuse always think the problem it’s _them_. And Aaron had said that he was upset with himself. He really just hoped Aaron would be willing to meet him at his apartment or someplace equally private, where they could talk about everything without worrying about who might hear. Aaron was already secretive enough. Not that he didn’t understand it. Everybody had secrets. Everybody had things they didn’t want anyone to know, Alexander himself included.

After a few more minutes, he turned on his laptop and focused on his work. He reread the same words he’d been reading for seven years and almost forgot all about the world. Almost. He kept his phone on top of his desk, and the minute it rang, he picked it up without checking who it was. He wasn’t actually expecting it to be Aaron, so when he heard his voice he almost lost his balance and had to hold onto the desk, which in turn meant he almost dropped the phone but managed not to. He was lucky no one was watching. He had lost count on how many times Jefferson had told him that balancing on his chair like a schoolboy was dangerous.

“Aaron?”

“ _Hi. I was wondering if I could stop by your place later tonight? So we could talk?_ ”

“Yes! Yes, sure, I’d love that. Uh, you’re coming for dinner?”

“ _I’d rather talking before anything else…_ ”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he cleared his throat. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“ _Yes._ ” He hung up.

And there was that word again, _later_. He groaned and threw his head back, his chest feeling a little lighter, even though his heart was beating way too fast. Later tonight was an improvement, and he really had called. It only had taken a couple of hours. That afternoon, his nerves barely allowed him doing anything. He went to his kitchen a thousand times but couldn’t bring himself to cook. He wasn’t hungry, not really. And later he decided not eating had been a good idea because when he heard the knock on his door, he was sure if he had anything on his stomach he would’ve vomited. He ran to the door with that thought in his mind and opened it perhaps a little brusquely, but Aaron looked a lot better than the last time he’d been standing there, and that was more than relieving. Aaron there, in his doorstep looking calm and composed with his casual clothes that never failed to make him look attractive simply took Alexander’s breath away.

“Hey,” he said, stepping aside to let the escort in.

“You seem relieved,” commented Aaron as he made his way to the living room taking his coat off at the same time.

“Yeah, honestly I worried for a while there that you wouldn’t call me after all. Which would’ve been okay, I mean,” he licked his lips, “I just… sorry. Can we start over? Hey.”

Aaron snorted and dropped his coat on a chair. “Hey,” he bit his bottom lip. “You seem relieved.”

“I was scared I missed my chance.”

“Yeah?”

Alexander nodded. “You see, there’s this really great guy that stole my heart like, months ago, and I kind of screwed up because for once I didn’t try to talk things to death,” he bit his bottom lip and brushed his fingers against the back of Aaron’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Aaron grabbed his hand and went to sit on the couch, dragging Alexander with him. “I’m sorry I freaked out on you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I mean, when you investigated me it was because of your job, and if you didn’t tell me later, well, I kind of get it too. I’ll admit it’s a little awkward, but there was no way of telling me that would have made it better.”

“I guess there wasn’t. I still feel guilty, I mean, I’d totally get it if you don’t trust me now, but I swear there’s nothing else I’m not telling you, and Aaron I… I just want to be sure you know that I didn’t… that I only… shit this is awkward,” he giggled and ran a hand through his hair, that after a day of doing nothing was more of a mess than usual, “that I only slept with you because I had already forgiven you, okay? And I know I probably should’ve said that, but I could hardly believe I was actually kissing you and—”

Aaron interrupted him with a kiss, as if to tell Alexander to start believing it because it was going to keep happening.

Alexander placed his hands on Aaron’s shoulders but tried to talk against his lips: “Wait, I think we should, I really think, Aaron, babe, miscommunication sucks, so please, let’s talk some more before any funny business.”

Aaron had tried to drown Alexander’s words with his tongue but after that he had to lean back and laugh.

Alexander gasped indignantly. “Are you laughing at me?”

Aaron nodded, but didn’t stop laughing, and eventually Alexander joined him.

“Okay,” said Alexander, shaking a little with laughter but sobering fast, “but that wasn’t all, right? I mean…”

Aaron sighed. He had decided to tell everything before he called earlier that day, but he still didn’t know how. He only had recounted what happened that night two times: he told Abigail on their second meeting and then the therapist she made him see. He had mentioned an accident to Bellamy and Maria, but nothing more. He had said she was important, but nothing more.

For the first time in a while, he wanted to go into detail of what he had lost that night, and how he had lost it. He swallowed.

“Did I ever tell you about my sister?”

Telling Alexander was, for the lack of a better word, therapeutic. It’s weird, that state in which one enters when telling such a story. You’re very conscious of your surroundings at first, but then it’s like you’re gone completely, lost in the memories and what little got stuck on your mind. He licked his lips and tried to gather his thoughts, thinking of the best, most concise way of telling it all. After almost a decade, he could no longer remember the smell or the wind on the street that night, but he remembers he was wearing a grey scarf, and he remembers the old man that had been about to cross with them, and the woman with the baby that were across the street, with the blue stroller. He remembers it was dark, and he remembers the brown eyes of the nurse that first rushed to his bed when he woke up.

He remembers he had been trembling, but he isn’t sure why.

Alexander seemed surprised. “No?” She wasn’t even on the files regarding the lawsuit. She hadn’t been a witness. “No, you didn’t.”

Aaron knew he didn’t. He never talked about her. He tried not to think of her either, but that was a tiny bit harder. It terrified him that it was getting easier, but then he would listen to a song she used to love or he would see the car she wanted to get on a parking lot or on the street, or he would turn on the TV or Netflix and find there one of the many movies they watched together, and his heart would ache intensely, but he would be relieved too, that he hadn’t forgotten. It hurt that there was so little of her to remember. It hurt that people would look at his life from the outside and wouldn’t see her. He frowned. “And she didn’t come up in your investigation?”

“It was just a really fast reading, okay? And it all ended with the lawsuit being dropped. I never knew how or when you came to New York.”

Aaron nodded. That made it a little better. She would always be there, as a pivotal part. “She brought me, she was… Sally was… very important to me. In a way, she was all I had for a very long time. But…” he licked his lips and folded his legs underneath him. “One night, on my first month here, we were crossing the street and a car skipped a red light and hit us. I woke up in the hospital. I had hit my head, but, really, all I had were scratches, but Sally, she…” Alexander held his hand and squeezed. Aaron squeezed back, perhaps a little too strong, but Alexander didn’t complain. “She had an internal bleeding, a rib broke and pierced her kidney or something like that, but she called the ambulance for me, because I was unconscious. When I woke up she was already dead. I wasn’t even sixteen yet and I didn’t…” he took a couple of deep breaths, “I met Abigail there. I heard some yelling in French and people yelling back in English that they didn’t understand,” he chuckled, “so I intervened. I calmed the guy down and translated until he decided to leave. I asked Abigail how they ended up there and after she told me about her agency I thought it could be a good idea. I mean, it was pretty much that or going back to California and I…” he shook his head. “I told her I was eighteen, and she acted like she believed me. We scheduled a meeting for the next day and she pretty much forced me into telling her what the hell was going on with me. She’s been like my mom ever since.”

Alexander had a lump on his throat, but he tried to talk anyway, even though he had no idea of what to say. Aaron was very good at dancing around on a conversation. You could talk for hours with him, have fun, and then realize only after he’s gone that he didn’t say anything important about himself. Receiving that amount of information was, to say the least, overwhelming and unexpected. Then there was the impact of the content. He cleared his throat. “Aaron…”

“But that doesn’t explain why I freaked out.” He smiled and threw his head back, staring at the ceiling as if it showed him a script, or maybe it was easier to stare at the white paint as if it was a blank canvas. “That night, we were going back home. None of us could cook, so we ate at a diner that was only four blocks from the study she was renting. During dinner, she made me promise that no matter what, I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t _use_ sex.”

‘ _Was it like a transaction?_ ’ had asked Mrs. Prevost. Alexander wanted to cry. He bit his bottom lip.

“So… basically I had a nightmare and freaked out, but I’m okay now. Do you want to eat something? I’m hungry.”

Alexander leaned, cupped Aaron’s face with the hand that wasn’t holding his, and kissed him. “I could order a pizza if you want,” he muttered a second that felt like an hour later. He hadn’t been hungry all day, and he wasn’t hungry then, but the prospect of eating with Aaron was something he could never throw away. Besides, he was pretty sure once he relaxed he would be starving.

“Yeah, pizza sounds great. Just don’t put any pineapples on it.”

“Oh, I had a boyfriend that really loved pineapple on pizza. God, I swear it was physically painful to order for him. Oh, and he didn’t like sweet popcorn!”

Aaron gasped. “Where did you find this guy?”

Alexander grimaced. “At a friend’s debut on a poetry reading in a bar they frequented. But I figured that since my friend liked that place and wasn’t _that_ weird…” he shrugged. “I was wrong. The guy was a complete nutjob, and he dumped me!”

Aaron burst out laughing, thinking to himself that the guy definitely had been insane if he had left someone like Alexander. He couldn’t understand how someone could willingly walk away from those eyes and hands that were pure understanding and affection.

He stayed the night again, and when he woke up on Monday morning, he did it with a smile.

֍

Ever since going back to teaching, George Washington had a routine he rarely interrupted. Sure, it varied some semesters, but usually, one thing he never sacrificed were his lunch-dates with his wife. Martha, however, was a busy woman; and more than once she would cancel him at the very last minute, especially on Mondays. He understood, and he was used to it, but he still didn’t like eating alone, so whenever that happened, he called his son. He too was a busy man, but whenever he could, he indulged him. That Monday in mid-March, he did. He didn’t mind waiting. He liked to receive Alexander with food on the table; it was always funny to watch his face lit up. That day though, his boy was already radiant when he got in (before their food did), and it seemed like no amount of food on the planet could possibly make him happier.

George stared at his son with an arched eyebrow and an amused tiny smile. “You got good news?”

Alexander sat down and laughed. He simply laughed, without a reason, and when the waitress met them, she also arched an eyebrow. “Hi, can I get a pineapple juice and a cheese burger, please?”

She nodded and left. George had already ordered for both of them, but the waitress knew them so that wouldn’t be a problem.

“What happened? Last time we spoke you were grumpy. What changed?”

The last time they spoke, about seventy-two hours earlier, he had only been upset because of the Prevost case and had been convinced Aaron was in a relationship. He giggled.  “Well, a lot of shit has happened. I mean forty-eight hours ago I was crying my eyes out, but now I’m fine.”

“What?”

“Yeah, but the important thing is that all is solved and now Aaron and I are dating.”

“Congratulations? Son, I’m a little worried now. What happened?”

Alexander sighed. “It’s not important.”

“You mentioned it for a reason.”

Alexander pouted. “Sure, but you can ignore it. It’s okay.”

“Alex.”

“Okay, okay… let’s see. I was super sad because I thought Aaron had been very shitty to me but at the end he hadn’t been, and then he came to my place and apologized, and then I kind of messed up a little but he forgave me after a while and now all is good.”

For a careless listener that might have sounded like a riddle, but George had listened to that boy recount similar—and bigger—dramas in high school. That was nothing. He was now an expert. “Why did you think he was shitty?”

Alexander sighed. “Can’t you just let it go? I did.”

“Alex.”

“Okay, okay. Remember I mentioned Mark Prevost the other day?”

“Yes,” George nodded. “I heard you finally got him to confess this Saturday.”

Alexander grinned. “Well, remember I told you Aaron was in a relationship? Yes, so he was with Prevost’s wife—yes, I knew he was with a married woman and I didn’t tell you that. Sorry,” he cleared his throat. “Anyway, he was with his wife. And she had wanted Aaron to use his friendship to me as a tool to help her husband, and I found out about that. Of course, I had no idea Aaron told her there was no way he would do that, and then he didn’t tell me that either, he just apologized, and then when I was mean he cried, and when he cried I tried to comfort him, and then he said he had convinced Prevost to confess—which I had asked him to do, by the way—so I asked him why wasn’t he apologizing to his girlfriend, right? And do you know what he said?” he giggled. “He said he didn’t love her! And asked me who he was apologizing then, and well, he was apologizing to me, so I kind of freaked out and—”

George stopped him with a gesture of his hand. “I get it. Now, how did you mess up later?”

“Oh, well, that’s a little more complicated. But we’re good now.”

“Alex.”

“Fine! Uh, well, back during the first case he helped with, I kind of made some research on him and I found out about some… stuff. And he didn’t know I knew, so I kind of revealed that. But he forgave me.”

“You never told him you had investigated him?”

“I didn’t find anything useful, okay? So there was no point on informing him, it might have even made it worse, so I didn’t, but he forgave me, remember? So it’s okay.”

George sighed and rubbed his face with a hand. “Okay. Maybe this stormy start means you won’t have that much drama in the future.” He didn’t sound convinced. More like delusional and he knew it. “I want to meet him.”

Alexander almost spat his drink. “What?”

He arched one eyebrow. “I want to meet him.”

“I heard you the first time. But why?”

He shook his head. “Let a man keep his secrets sometimes, son.” Alexander didn’t look like he was going to let it go, so George focused on his food. It was delicious. Alexander’s grin at the other side of the table only made it better.

When you care about someone, you want them to be happy. And though someone’s happiness should never depend on a person, it’s true that one person can help improve someone’s life, and that is not a bad thing, nor something to be ashamed of. George was always more relaxed when Alexander was in a relationship, because Alexander wasn’t _good_ at being alone. He never got enough sleep, unless somebody reminded him of it, hardly ever cooked and ate a bunch of candy all day long, and he liked to talk and share the details of his day with someone who cared. Alexander knew too well what it was like to be utterly alone, and George didn’t want that for him. Still, he knew his son was too quick to bring people near him that didn’t belong there. Sometimes they simply weren’t what he needed, sometimes they didn’t deserve him, and George liked to evaluate the situation to know what to expect. Someone might call him overprotective, but he didn’t care unless that someone was Alexander, and so far, he hadn’t complained, not really.

After all, it’s nice to know that someone cares, and even when they go a little too far, it’s hard to get mad at them for it. George wasn’t by far the most overbearing relative out there. Sure that for an outsider it can be a little more complicated to appreciate their actions. When a person approaches someone because of somebody else, for example, it can be a little odd. They may not be doing it on purpose, but they’re making a point of outing that somebody else as shy. Shy wasn’t a negative trait, though. Aaron knew some people found it an endearing attribute, and he also knew some could benefit of a partner with it. They weren’t _his_ type, though, which wasn’t hard to tell. One look at Alexander Hamilton and it became obvious. Alexander was the opposite of shy. Not just outgoing, but bold and reckless and confident and loud. He was simply exasperating half the time, but it certainly was never boring to be around him. He considered himself lucky Alexander seemed to find entertaining to be around Aaron, too.

For the first time, it irritated him to have to work at lunch and dinner time, because Alexander’s schedule wasn’t exactly regular either and it could get difficult to see each other. He was bent to make it work though, so whenever they could, they ate together, even if the only way to do so was if they had something in Alexander’s office—building, really. Aaron couldn’t stand to be near that messy desk, so they would usually go to the roof or outside or the cafeteria. The people that remembered him from Prevost’s confession weren’t many, so really, he was only known in the building as ‘Agent Hamilton’s boyfriend’, which wasn’t as annoying as he thought it should be. Still, anybody rarely stopped him on his way out, so the time it happened, and they did so calling him by his name at that, he was more than surprised.

“Aaron Burr?” called him out a beautiful woman he’d never seen before.

Unconsciously, he stood a little straighter. “Yes?”

“My name is Angelica Schuyler; my husband is John Church? I would like to thank you for getting Mark Prevost to confess.”

Aaron blinked. He’d only heard the name of her husband once or twice, but it wasn’t hard to connect the dots if she was thanking him. “Well, I don’t think I really…”

“Agent Jefferson told me everything. You really didn’t have to, so thank you.”

Aaron nodded awkwardly and cleared his throat. “You’re welcome, then.” He remembered what little he knew of the mess that followed Prevost’s arrest and almost winced. “Will your husband be able to save the company?”

“I think he will, yes. Are you still in contact with Mrs. Prevost?”

He smiled dejectedly and shook his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Uh, Mr. Jefferson mentioned you worked for an escort agency?”

He frowned. “Yes?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Could I ask you a favor?”

֍

People many times underestimate the struggles of musicians. They see celebrities and cannot fathom what it’s like to fall in love with an instrument and dedicate to it completely. Sure, there’s bohemia in every genre. Even classical musicians, those that are easily stereotyped as too serious or boring, have their difficulties and drama. When it comes to an orchestra, half the world could never imagine what that scene was like, where devotion, passion, sternness and drama mix. Still, Eliza loved it.

Elizabeth Schuyler had always wanted to form part of an orchestra, ever since she was seven and watching Barbie movies, back in the day in which they would credit the London Symphonic Orchestra. But though she had the lungs for flutes and the clarinet, her favorite instrument was, by far, the piano, and she was good at it. Still, not only she had talent, she was disciplined too, and practiced every day. Her parents saw that, and when the opportunity presented, they took her to Germany. She missed her sisters, but she studied with the best, and she loved every minute of it. She got to play all around Europe, but nothing compared to the happiness she felt when she got an opportunity to play at Carnegie Hall in New York City. She wasn’t thirty yet, and she was living the dream.

Still, even though her family had lived in the State of New York for generations, she had only been to the city a few times. No one could blame her for getting lost. Not charging her phone, however, was entirely her fault. But she wasn’t in a hurry, so she figured she could make her way there if she just asked around. She wasn’t particularly bold, though, so asking any stranger on the crowded street was a little intimidating.

Until she saw _her_.

Sometimes one sees extraordinary people on the street, and there’s nothing you can do but think to yourself that life is unfair. Eliza wasn’t the type to go and introduce herself to others, not even at parties. She was shy. But she had a legitimate reason now, so she took a deep breath and tapped her on the shoulder.

She was not expecting the girl to scream, but after she apologized, the gorgeous stranger kindly gave her the clearest indications, using perhaps the sweeter voice Eliza had ever heard.

After the lovely girl’s instructions, she made it to the building before anyone else. Mr. Mulligan, the Assistant Manager that had been dealing with her since the beginning, welcomed her with a smile, and offered to give her a tour of the place. She had visited before, once, back in middle school when Germany hadn’t even been on her plans, and she remembered, of course she did, but visiting knowing that she would be playing there was a completely different experience. Besides, Mr. Mulligan—‘ _please, call me Hercules!_ ’—was a great guide. He knew all sorts of stories and made the route entertaining. He gave her all sorts of advice which she genuinely appreciated, but he also added some tension to it all. She was already extremely nervous with only the prospect of playing, but then he went and mentioned every introvert’s nightmare:

“And then there’s tonight’s party…”

“A party?”

Hercules stopped in his track and blinked owlishly. “Yes. Normally you got an email about it. Well, it’s not even that fun. We just have dinner with a bunch of legends and the rich people who fund us, and then we dance a little bit. You can take only one person with you.”

Eliza shifted in her feet awkwardly. “And if I don’t have anyone to take with me?”

He shrugged. “Then you can hire someone to come with you. Or you can come alone, that’s okay too, but the seat next to you will probably be empty. The tables are already organized.”

“Oh,” she bit her bottom lip.

“Why don’t you just hire an escort?”

She stared at him blankly for a moment.

Why not indeed?

As soon as she got to her sister’s place, she took her laptop to bed and searched the internet for the “right one”. Really, she was more gawking at the prospects than anything. They were all beautiful women and the prices were very varied. She was actually having a good time, and she felt guilty for it, for enjoying staring at other people as if they were products, a dress or a car that she could rent for the evening. It was wrong. Enjoying an evening with someone should be about the person, not encouraged by money. She sighed heavily and was about to close all the tabs she had opened when she noticed one picture in particular, and she swore her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t believe her eyes, but it had to be, it had to be the girl from that morning. She bit her bottom lip and entered her page, gasping as the picture got bigger. She could be wrong; after all, she barely had talked to the girl on the street, but the escort looked similar enough that she couldn’t help herself. She was gorgeous. And if her voice was as inciting as the stranger’s… she was sure she would _dream_ with that voice, it was that magical. Before she could think it through, she made the reservation. She had been expecting for it to be impossible—surely such a girl wouldn’t be available in such a short notice? But she was. And Eliza had a date for that night’s party. She rushed to her bags to see if she had anything decent to wear and spent the next five hours stressing over it. But at the end, she didn’t dare. She cancelled it and asked her sister to go with her.

She kept the agency’s website in her bookmarks, just in case.

But she pushed it all to the back of her mind and focused on the music. Music had always been the primary thing in her life, and she had no intention of changing it. But though the only reason she was in New York was that concert, as soon as it was over, she wondered if she was doing it all wrong. In her sister’s apartment, sharing with her and John, she was happy in a different way. Her heart wasn’t trying to escape her chest and her cheeks didn’t hurt from smiling, but there was a feeling of content in her chest ever-present that wasn’t there on nights in between concerts, when she was alone in foreign lands. She had friends, but it was hard to keep in touch with them when she was always practicing or travelling or simply too tired to pick up the phone. And she missed her sisters. She didn’t tell them, though. Peggy had to focus on school and Angelica, well, Angelica always knew what to say. She always had the right answers and made it all sound so simple, but Eliza didn’t want to hear it. She still wanted to complain, so when Hercules asked her if she wanted to grab lunch with him, she agreed immediately. She still didn’t have a date to leave town, and she wanted to go out every day she could. She met with him downtown, and was both relieved and entertained she wasn’t the only one that had thought of him to complain a little about life to someone that wouldn’t judge them.

“I love him, I really do,” admitted Hercules, “but I swear the next time he gives me an iguana for my birthday I’m going to break up with him!”

She covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she giggled. “Oh, but Christmas is coming, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you worry about that? Maybe you two should go buy presents together, you know, for other people. Try to teach him, subtly, how to pick adequate gifts.”

Hercules sighed. “I _tried_. He says he freaks out when it’s someone important, that he wants to cause an _impression_.” He rubbed his forehead tiredly. “But enough about me. You said you wanted to complain about life too. What is it? I bet you none of your partners have been that terrible with presents.”

“No, none of them have, I’ll admit that much…” she bit her bottom lip and started ripping a napkin into little pieces and then turning those into tiny, useless balls. “I’m just tired.”

Hercules arched one eyebrow. “Of travelling?”

“Am I that easy to read?”

“No,” he shook his head. “But I think everyone tires of that, eventually, you know? I mean, I imagine it’s a very exciting life, but at the same time… there’s a reason we’re not nomads, you know?”

She nodded with a sad smile.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Have you considered just… stopping? You could get a job here, maybe some teaching…” he pursed his lips. “Hang on.” He grabbed his phone and started typing something, frowning in concentration.

She watched him the whole time, astounded.

After fifteen minutes of battling with his phone and muttering under his breath and mouthing a couple of words every so often, he grinned and cheered in victory. “There. I think I got you. I mean, it’s just an interview. You don’t have to go if you don’t want.”

She arched her eyebrows, placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “A job?”

Hercules nodded and hummed. “Yes. A teaching position in Julliard. What do you think?”

She gasped. “Oh, Hercules, that’s marvelous!” She was thrilled. A couple of minutes later once the idea really got to her, she was terrified, but thrilled nevertheless. She didn’t think she’d ever _been_ to a job interview before, but Hercules and Angelica helped her to prepare for it. When they finally told her she had gotten it, she couldn’t believe it.

She could stay.

Angelica insisted there was no reason for her to move out, but she wanted to have her own place. She still had a key to Angelica’s apartment and gave her one of hers, but in weeks, she was buying furniture and picking her own dishes and sheets and carpets. She never thought buying carpets could be so fun, but it was. She still checked the escort agency’s website every few days to see pictures of her indications girl. She couldn’t help it. It was a little of an obsession. But her life was going great. She liked teaching. She never thought she would, but she did.

And then Angelica’s husband got in trouble with the feds. He claimed he hadn’t known, and Angelica believed him, which was all Eliza needed to know. Apparently even the agents working the case believed him, but that wasn’t enough to clear him of all trouble. Angelica told her they would be alright though. She was clearly worried, but she was doing her best to help and told Eliza there was nothing she could do for them, so she kept working, and maybe she stared at some pictures a little longer when she was worried, because they made it easier to get distracted. Sometimes she just needed to forget, but drugs scared her and she didn’t particularly like alcohol, so when she wanted to clear her mind, she did other things. Fun things. Pleasurable things.

She heard the door opening and jumped a little where she’d been sitting in her bed; her hands froze, one on top of her computer and another at her side. “Angelica?” she called, just to be sure.

Her sister entered her room with a bright beam. “It’s over! It’s finally over!” She threw herself on the bed next to her and rested her head on her shoulder.

It was too late for Eliza to close Google Chrome. She swallowed and didn’t try to see her sister’s face. She could picture her frown as she said: “What are you doing?”

“Nothing!”

Angelica frowned. “Is that an escort website?”

Eliza buried her face in her hands in embarrassment. “Don’t judge me. I’ve never hired them, I promise. I mean, I did, but then I cancelled it.”

“What? Why? Eliza, I don’t understand.”

She bit her bottom lip and twisted the laptop so her sister could see more clearly. “I talked to that girl on the street one day, and then for some reason found her on the internet that very same night, by coincidence. She’s gorgeous, don’t you think?”

“Eliza, are you stalking this girl?”

“No!” She only stared at her page every day and followed the agency’s official Instagram page and checked it constantly. “No. I just think she’s pretty. Can you blame me?”

“So you stare at her pictures on your free time?”

“Don’t people do this all the time with celebrities?”

“They usually do because they can sing or act or something.”

“You don’t know if she—”

“Neither do you. Eliza…” she rubbed her face with a hand and sighed, “just, this is ridiculous. If you like her so much, why don’t you hire her?”

“Are you kidding? I couldn’t! I don’t have a reason to, and I don’t want her to be nice to me just because I’m paying. Besides, the fees are a little exaggerated.”

Angelica pursed her lips. “What’s the name of this agency?”

“Why?”

Angelica huffed and grabbed the laptop, putting it on her own lap and checked the website herself. She bit her bottom lip and went to the main menu, selected the ‘male escorts’ section, and gasped when she found whatever she was looking for. Then, she grinned. “Well, I think I can help you, little sis.”

Eliza frowned, unsure and intrigued. “What do you mean? And what happened to John?”

“It’s over, I told you. Mark confessed, and John is officially out of trouble,” she licked her lips and clicked on one name, “all thanks to this guy.”

Eliza gasped. “Jesus, is everybody in that place gorgeous?”

Angelica chuckled. “I got to admit, I understand why Theo was sleeping with him.”

“What? You’re kidding.” She turned to study the man on the screen more intently. “Damn. But he’s got to be at least ten years younger than her, right?”

Angelica shrugged one shoulder. “He liked her too, I guess. Or maybe he didn’t. I don’t know. The point is…” she grinned, gave the laptop back to Eliza, and stood up, “I have something to do now. John and I will have dinner and celebrate. Let’s have lunch tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure.”

Eliza watched her sister go without fully understanding what the hell had happened. She hesitated for perhaps forty seconds and then went back to check the few pictures there were of the girl she was obsessed with. She didn’t think she had an actual problem. There simply was no way of approaching her. Or so she thought. Less than an hour later, she got a weird text from Angelica; an address and time. She frowned, but before she could ask what that was, Angelica texted again, explaining what that meant.

She had the best sister in the world.

Three days later, she was getting ready to go to dinner with her crush. It was a little embarrassing, and she didn’t know how much Angelica had said about it, but it was happening, and there was no way she wasn’t going. There was no money being exchanged here, just dinner. Some sort of blind date, really, even if Eliza knew perhaps a little too well how the girl looked.

Or so she thought.

Maria Lewis probably was expected to wear a lot of makeup for her job, but when she met Eliza, she did so with barely some lip gloss and perhaps foundation. Eliza had memorized what her eyes looked like with heavy eyeshadow and long black eyelashes and she was not prepared to be mesmerized by the simplicity of brown eyeliner and no mascara. She had always known her voice would blow her away, though.

Maria’s voice was simply captivating, and if she didn’t know how to make a conversation interesting, it would’ve been just too easy to get lost on it. But she couldn’t. Maria was sweet and wanted to hear all about Eliza’s job and studies in Europe. She had a broad knowledge of classical music and also knew how to play the piano, though she said she would be too embarrassed to play in front of a professional, which Eliza considered a pity, but at least she agreed to sing for her one day—which in turn meant she agreed to meet with her again, and there was nothing Eliza wanted more. Her date with Maria Lewis was simply wonderful, and she couldn’t wait to see her again.

And those were her thoughts before Maria stopped the cab driver to go back in her feet and kiss Eliza goodbye. After that, well, there probably was no space for thoughts after.

If only they weren’t so shy, they would’ve known they were thinking the exact same thing and they would’ve met sometime sooner, but a week from there worked anyway, if only to make them even more excited about it.

“I should kiss you,” declared Maria the moment she stepped inside the apartment she shared with that perfect human being that had convinced her of going out with a complete stranger.

He arched his eyebrows. “So, your date with Eliza Schuyler went okay?”

“She is perhaps the most beautiful, kind, hilarious, intelligent, graceful woman I’ve ever met. I’m in love.”

“You literally met her four hours ago.”

She hummed. “Not everyone needs to know a person for a year before they realize they’re the love of their lives.”

Aaron blushed. “Who said anything about—”

“Are you meeting Alexander tonight?” she interrupted him.

He cleared his throat. “Yes.”

She smirked. “Give him my regards then. And start spending the night there more often!”

“I’m sure Elizabeth Schuyler has a very nice apartment and I don’t need to leave mine just so you can get laid.”

Maria gasped. “You _insisted_ I should live with you!”

“That was when we were single! Things change!” His life in particular had gone through some very abrupt changes all through his childhood to get stuck, fixed and motionless after he met Abigail. It had been nice, and what he needed, with only few people entering slowly and rarely staying. The one real addition to his life had been Maria, and maybe Theodosia. But Agent Hamilton came in, out of nowhere, and didn’t look like he would leave any time soon. Aaron didn’t want him to leave, anyway. It was a nice addition, the guy with long hair that wouldn’t admit he couldn’t read shit without his glasses and had a terrible taste in movies, even if he talked so damn much.

It wasn’t hard to notice that Alexander still felt uncomfortable for knowing things about Aaron he shouldn’t know. He tried giving Aaron as much information of himself as he could at totally random times. He never talked of his life in Puerto Rico though, and Aaron didn’t ask. He actually never asked, but somehow ended up knowing everything about Alexander’s years in high school and all of his hookups in college and then every single fight he had gotten into, especially those that came after he became Jefferson’s partner. And because he talked so much, it wasn’t hard to tell when he was trying to say something and couldn’t bring himself to do it. It didn’t happen often, so Aaron was always awfully interested when it did.

One Saturday morning that he had stayed at Alexander’s place, he noticed all the signs Alexander was trying to avoid a conversation. And he delayed it as much as he could, even though Aaron tried to get it out of him more than once. It wasn’t until they were done with lunch that he said: “My parents want to meet you.”

Aaron’s face didn’t give anything away. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, they’d wanted for a while now, and…”

“They’re insisting too much?” Aaron smirked. “I could always fake my own death if you don’t want the encounter to happen, but I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?”

“I’m intrigued!” Alexander had a tendency to blush whenever he spoke with his father on the phone and mentioned he was with Aaron. A person could endure only so much curiosity. “I’d love to meet them. I’ll have someone to complain to about your mouth.”

Alexander hummed. “I’m pretty sure you had nothing but gratitude towards my mouth this morning.”

“I am not going to mention _that_ to your parents!”

Alexander chuckled, visibly relaxed. He loved the Washington’s, they really were his parents, but they could be a little… well, they were intimidating when they wanted to—and they usually wanted to. They also knew how to interrogate people, and they seemed to be under the impression that nobody was good enough. First meetings were always stressful for him, especially because he usually told them a lot about whoever he was dating before they met—Aaron was not the exception—and they tended to make a parallel on what they saw and what they had heard and then evaluate whether there was something he wasn’t seeing. But he knew Aaron would charm them the way he charmed everybody, he just feared he wouldn’t exactly like them, and that terrified him. He needed them to get along, because he couldn’t imagine a conflict between the people he cared the most about. He didn’t tell Aaron all that, because he figured he was stressed enough after Alexander told him they were in fact invited for lunch that Sunday.

“Oh my god, Alexander, why couldn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I was hoping if I told you too late you’d be busy, and we could get out of it,” confessed Alexander honestly.

Aaron bit his bottom lip. “If you really don’t want to go, I can think of something.”

“No. I want to. I do. It just… stresses me a little. But I want to.”

Aaron didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t insist. And though that night he went back to his apartment— ‘ _I need to get a good night sleep and pick my clothes for tomorrow, Alex!_ ’—he was back in Alexander’s place the next day before eleven in the morning, an ungodly hour if he asked him. The Washington’s place was only forty minutes or so away from his, but of course Alexander took forever to get ready, so they arrived about three in the afternoon. Aaron was mortified, but Alexander insisted they didn’t expect him there any sooner. Aaron figured they knew Alexander was physically uncapable of it. He was still sweating cold when they finally opened the door, and an imposing man greeted them looking unamused.

“So I finally meet you,” said the man.

Aaron swallowed but put on his best smile and extended a hand. “Yes, it’s a pleasure.”

The grip of his hand was crushing. “No,” George Washington shook his head, “you don’t understand, I’ve been hearing about you for _months_. I was there when Alexander _realized_ he liked you. That was like a decade ago. That’s how long I’ve been waiting for this day.”

“Dad! It was not, he’s exaggerating!”

“I know. We didn’t know each other ten years ago, Alexander.”

Alexander blushed. “Yes, but it wasn’t, I mean—”

“Stop babbling,” interrupted him Martha. “And you, don’t make this hard for Alexander!” She glared at her husband, but when she turned to face Aaron, her expression softened—although Aaron found her smile slightly unsettling. “I’ll have to tell you though, George and I used to call you ‘ _Mr. Gorgeous_ ’ back when Alexander wouldn’t tell us your name.”

“Okay, I think this has been enough!”

Aaron was _so_ confused, but he definitely _did not_ want the conversation to end. “Wait, what? No, I need to hear that. Why would you call me that?”

“It’s really not important—”

“Why? Because that was one of the first things we heard about you, of course,” said Martha.

George hummed and nodded affirmatively.

“Oh my _god,_ you two are the worst, seriously!” groaned Alexander, covering his face with one hand. He had expected them to embarrass him, but it had started earlier and stronger than what he’d been hoping. Still, he was oddly content there, next to Aaron and in front of his parents. He felt normal. His relationship with Aaron felt normal. Alexander liked it. He didn’t get to feel normal that often, and he suspected Aaron didn’t either. He didn’t want the day to be over, but when Martha announced lunch was ready he didn’t complain. Martha’s cooking was the best—he dared to say, she was even better than his mother at that, which hadn’t been easy to admit when he was younger. The plates and glasses were the same they’d been when he first came to live with them. The gorgeous guy sitting next to him was a good actor, but when he squeezed his hand under the table and smiled encouragingly whenever their eyes met, Alexander didn’t dare to think he was acting. He liked the scene too much to consider it wasn’t real, because it wasn’t even over and he already wanted to repeat it. So of course his phone interrupted them when he was having such a good time. He almost ignored it, but he knew he couldn’t because he still kind of owed the guy.

He apologized and answered with a growl. “Jefferson? I’m busy right now, what do you want?”

“ _I’m sorry, but you told me to call you the minute anything came up on the Lavien case._ ”

Alexander’s next intake of breath was sharp. “Give me a moment.” He covered the microphone and turned to his parents with an apologetic face. “I’m sorry, but I really need to take this.”

George rolled his eyes. “Of course. Go. Tell Jefferson we said hi.”

Alexander nodded and left the room a little hurriedly. He wouldn’t say he’d been waiting for a call like that for almost a year, especially not after he heard what little Jefferson had to say. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. He hoped his frustration wasn’t very obvious, but George asked him if there was a tough case, and Martha offered him an extra portion of cake, and Aaron eyed him cautiously for the rest of the evening, occasionally dropping a kiss on his cheek and squeezing his hand. He couldn’t forget about the phone call, not completely, but he relaxed remarkably thanks to the extra attention, and stored the knowledge for later; if he ever felt ignored, he would pretend to be upset about a case, just as an experiment. He was selfish like that, but he hoped Aaron wouldn’t mind, like he didn’t seem to mind discussing politics with George, and the social factors that could push a person into his line of work with Martha—Alexander had been mortified, but Aaron said it was okay—and then even discussed the right way to cook certain meals—Alexander had no idea people argued about the right time to _peel_ potatoes or when to add salt.

“I had fun,” said Aaron once they were inside Alexander’s car.

“Yeah?”

Aaron nodded. He had been nervous at first, but he’d relaxed shortly. The Washington’s were certainly intimidating, but they also were interesting, and they _loved_ Alexander. They genuinely cared about him and Aaron was confident that as long as he wasn’t hurting him, they wouldn’t disapprove of him. Sure, he wasn’t used to being in a situation where he wasn’t in control of other’s people’s opinion of him, where he didn’t know how much they knew about him, and that inevitably made him uneasy, but he was also fascinated with the people that had shaped Alexander into the confident, capable adult he was now. One thing was his personality and natural strength, and another was the result of an adolescence in a healthy, supportive environment. Aaron was glad he had that, and he knew the couple was to thank for it. He was grateful.

He stayed at Alexander’s place that night, and almost forgot to text Maria to tell her about it. Still, when he did, he hoped they could talk a little about it while Alexander was in the bathroom and brushed his teeth, but Maria didn’t answer. It was late, so he didn’t worry. She was probably already sleeping. He planned to leave early the next morning, which didn’t happen. Alexander already had trouble getting to work on time, but on the days he knew he had nothing to do, he rarely got up before noon. That in itself wasn’t a problem. The problem was that no matter how much Aaron insisted, he wouldn’t let Aaron leave the bed either, and he could be very damn convincing when he wanted to.

But eventually, Aaron made it back to his apartment. His good mood vanished the moment he saw his roommate. She was merely sitting on the couch with her lips pursed, staring at a wall.

“What is it?” he asked as soon as he found his voice.

She blinked a few times and seemed surprised by his presence. “Oh hey, I didn’t hear you coming in.” She cleared her throat. “How’s it going?”

Aaron arched one eyebrow. “I am okay. How are you?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Eliza asked me to be her girlfriend.”

“I thought that was what you wanted?”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know. I don’t think she likes listening about my job and,” she ran a hand through her hair, “I think it makes her uncomfortable, but she doesn’t want to tell me. Really, she’s great but…”

“I think our job makes everyone uncomfortable.”

Her eyes widened. “Did Alexander say anything?”

“No,” he shook his head, “but…”

“You know.”

He nodded. “I know.” It was either that, or Aaron’s entire life made him uncomfortable and he didn’t want to explore that possibility that wasn’t less than likely. “She asked you to be her girlfriend though, so I don’t think she has like, a _problem_ with it. Maybe she doesn’t like listening because it makes her jealous or something. But if she’s not complaining… why does it upset you?”

“I don’t know. I just, I don’t want us to have issues. And I’m too scared to screw everything if I bring it up. I like her _so_ much.”

He pursed his lips and went to sit down next to her. “I think we should all go out and dine together,” proposed Aaron.

Maria raised her face to meet his eyes wearing a hopeful expression. “That actually sounds like a very good idea.” She bit her bottom lip. “Eliza is probably going to like you, and Alexander, too.”

“I hope so, but I still need to meet her.” He leaned back against the couch and crossed his legs at his ankles. “She needs to know what’ll happen to her if she ever hurts you.”

Maria rolled her eyes. “Shut up.” She was so relieved, she didn’t think Aaron could even understand. Maybe nothing would change. Maybe it would be a disaster. But maybe if she met Aaron who also worked with her, and if she saw him interact with Alexander, it would ease her mind. Maybe they could develop something like that. She would like that. She texted Eliza right then to see if they could schedule something for the next week and was thrilled when the pianist answered affirmatively. Eliza could get very busy, but so far she had always found the time for Maria and her crazy hours. She worried her bottom lip, conscious that she probably would eventually tire of it, but when that time came, Maria would do her best.

She convinced Aaron to cook something for lunch and then they planned their double date together. It was fun. When he texted Alexander to ask for suggestions, they decided they’d never ask him again. They picked a restaurant both Aaron and Maria liked—a place he had met because of a job about six years ago and they frequented to this day whenever they wanted to celebrate something—and discussed what they should wear. Apparently, Eliza’s wardrobe consisted on many beautiful gala dresses she used to her concerts, a couple of blouses and ugly skirts, and one pair of jeans. Maria had been appalled. She hoped students didn’t rank the worse dressed professors at Julliard, because she was afraid Eliza might win, but many musicians had a very distorted sense of fashion. Still, Eliza had agreed to go shopping with her, so Maria intended to pick something for their date then.

“I’ll get us something to look good together,” commented Maria with a dreamy air and a silly beam. “She’d look marvelous with pants that fit and nicer shirts. I also need to get her jackets and sweaters. Can you believe she has only one coat?” She pursed her lips. “Maybe you should join us.”

Aaron grimaced. “Maybe I’ll join you after our date, but let’s leave first meetings to then, okay?” He leaned back and rubbed his forehead. “To a nice restaurant with good food and no sources of stress.”

“Like shopping?”

“Like shopping,” he nodded.

Maria wouldn’t argue. Shopping was a far more stressful matter than some people thought. They days prior to their date weren’t though, at least for her. She was excited and couldn’t imagine Eliza not getting along with Aaron and Alexander, which only got confirmed when they met outside the restaurant.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Aaron, sincerely, kissing her cheek.

“Likewise. Maria has told me a lot about you.”

Aaron grimaced. “Hopefully nothing bad? I’m afraid I might be a lousy roommate. But at least I cook.”

Eliza covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she chuckled. The sound was lovely. She waved her free hand in dismissal. “No, no. All she’s said about you has been good so far.”

Alexander cleared his throat next to them. “Should I worry? I’m afraid that phrase was exclusively about you for a reason.”

She snorted and waved a hand again. “No, not at all, I promise!”

Eliza was adorable, and Alexander was oddly charming. A more insecure person might’ve gotten jealous. But Maria couldn’t, with how Eliza pressed their shoulders together and kept a certain smile only for her; besides, whenever Aaron spoke, Alexander’s face transformed. Aaron never failed to capture his whole attention, even at times when he wasn’t talking. Because honestly, there were times in which the only person talking was Alexander. If Maria hadn’t spent many nights getting to know and like him, she probably would’ve been irritated, but Eliza, bless her heart, didn’t seem annoyed by it. It was true that pretty much everything that came out of his mouth was interesting. It was only inconvenient that it was so damn much.

After talking uninterruptedly for over twenty minutes in between the main course and dessert, Eliza raised a hand to stop him.

Maria, that had tuned out of the conversation some minutes earlier, worried for a second.

“Wait, Hercules Mulligan?”

Alexander arched his eyebrows. “You know him?”

“Yeah, he’s a good friend of mine!” exclaimed Eliza, grinning brightly.

Maria watched in astonishment and then exchanged a look with Aaron, who merely shrugged with a tiny smile.

“Really? His fiancé Gilbert is one of my best friends!”

Aaron turned to face him with an arched eyebrow. “Is that Gilbert the same guy you dated in college?”

Alexander rolled his yes. “Yes. Why do you have to bring it up?”

“It just amazes me you dated your two best friends.” He shrugged one shoulder and took a sip of his diet coke, but his gleaming eyes gave him away, to Maria at least. The way Alexander narrowed his eyes with a barely repressed grin told her he knew what he was doing also, and he didn’t mind.

It was, most definitely, a great evening.

Aaron left with Alexander, and Eliza invited Maria to her own place. It wouldn’t be the first time she spent the night, but it was different, somehow.

Lying side by side, Eliza dropped a kiss on her shoulder before resting her head there. “I had fun tonight. Thank you. I feel like I know you a little better for it.”

“You really had fun? I know Alexander can be a bit much.”

Eliza chuckled. “Yes, he’s a little… brash. But he’s fun to be around, and Aaron is really nice.”

Maria bit her bottom lip and made up her mind.

֍

Aaron liked spending the night at Alexander’s apartment, but he liked his far better. Thus, as much as he liked having breakfast in bed and cuddling, he left early. It was a Thursday, so they both had things to do. He thought the night before had gone more than okay, so he was surprised to find Maria already there when he arrived. His surprise turned into concern when he noticed her face.

“Maria?”

“I told her,” she confessed, as if she’d been waiting all morning for him to say it. “I told her about the kidnapping. Was it a mistake? I feel like it was a mistake.”

Aaron bit his bottom lip. He was a little shocked she had done it. He knew he wouldn’t have. He knew because he never mentioned anything about himself. But he also knew that the main reason things with Alexander worked the way they did was because they were open to each other. “No,” he shook his head. “No, it was not a mistake.” He sat down next to her and held her hand. “She might need a while, to process, you know? But Eliza is a good person, and she loves you. You two are going to be alright.”

She gulped. “I hope so.” Eliza had been shocked, and concerned, and then had wrapped her arms around Maria all night long. She felt safe there, and slept well, but the next morning was weird. Maria hadn’t known what to do with herself and left shortly after they ate some toasts. Eliza had a class to give anyway, so she hadn’t invited her to stay longer.

She was glad she had two jobs that day, so she tried to push her thoughts out of her mind and focus on getting ready. The nearer the weekend, the busier they were, especially on summer. She hated summer, but she liked the opportunity to get Eliza to wear less clothes and shorter skirts.

She wasn’t the only one that found that excuse as perhaps the one perk of summer, though it wasn’t like Hercules’s job allowed him to go there wearing shorts. Still, Gilbert managed from time to time to get him to wear short-sleeved shirts, and even a T-shirt on an occasion or two. However, if not handled right, that weekend could be somewhat of a bittersweet time.

The 14th of July was a special date for the French. They didn’t celebrate in the exact same way Americans celebrated their independence, but it felt similarly, and being an ocean away wasn’t ideal. Gilbert had been living in the US since college, but his family was still there, and he tried to go every summer, but sometimes it just wasn’t possible.

That year it wasn’t, but he had his fiancé and his friends, and he still intended to celebrate. He wouldn’t go out for drinks because Hercules and he had important things to do the next day, and they wouldn’t invite people over because then they never left, but when he commented the issue on his chat group, Alexander offered his apartment, which was just great. He even suggested they invited Eliza and her girlfriend.

At the end, both Maria and Aaron had to work, but at least Eliza was coming. Alexander loved his friends, but now that they were engaged they were even more sickeningly sweet and he couldn’t stand to be alone with them—Laurens couldn’t either, which made the urgency of the autopsy that kept him busy somewhat dubious. With Eliza there, Alexander hoped he would have at least one ally there. He told her all that since she was the first one to arrive, and at first she had thought he was exaggerating—she had only seen Gilbert a few times—but soon enough she discovered he wasn’t. Really, they were sweet. Perhaps a little too much, but she could handle it. Together, they handled it better.

“Okay. This was all very fun, but we have to go,” said Lafayette around two in the morning. He patted his fiancé’s thigh and stood up, stretching his arms over his head.

Hercules hummed and nodded beside him, standing up. “Yes. Tomorrow we’re going to taste cake. It’s going to be fun. We can’t be hangover.”

Alexander giggled. “Okay, go. Go away, you lovebirds.”

“Shut up. You’ll be worse when you get married.”

Alexander would like that. He finished his glass of whiskey. Clearly, he was already drunk if he was thinking of a ring that would suit Aaron. Obviously, any ring would suit him; everything he wore looked great on him. He walked his friends to the door, hugged them goodbye, and then whistled his way back to the living room and sat back down heavily.

“I probably should go too,” said Eliza.

“No! Stay a little longer.” He grinned but when he saw her face he worried. He narrowed his eyes and sat back down. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

She shook her head and took a deep breath. She had wanted to talk to Hercules about it but the atmosphere just hadn’t been right. But maybe she could talk to Alexander. “It’s just… I’m so worried, you know?”

“Oh,” Alexander grimaced. He remembered Aaron told him Maria recounted the story of her kidnapping to Eliza. “Sure. I imagine.”

“She said the only reason the cops looked was because of you, so thanks.”

He cleared his throat. “She said that? Well,” he licked his lips, “I guess. But there’s no need to thank me, I mean, I just understood the severity of the situation like the cops at the station wouldn’t, because of all their rules and stuff, you know?”

She hummed. “If I got to be honest, it’s more like she says that Aaron says that. She’s more grateful of him, really.”

“Which makes sense and it’s how it should be, I mean—”

“You only helped because of him.”

“Yes—no! No, I,” he frowned, “Jesus, Eliza, you really think so low of me?” he chuckled. “There was a girl missing, okay? I am an officer of the law and everything, I care about those things. If it weren’t for Aaron I never would’ve known, and maybe if I hadn’t cared about him the way I did I wouldn’t have worried the way I did, but…”

She chuckled. “I know. But anyway, that’s my problem. I can’t go to her and tell her to get a different job because I’m worried something like that could happen again though, can I?”

Alexander scratched the back of his head. “I guess not. But hey, their agency is pretty serious, and their boss _is_ dating SAC Adams, so… maybe, you shouldn’t worry so much.”

“Don’t you ever worry?”

Alexander was always worried. But he lived worried; he was used to it. He smiled sheepishly. “In my defense, I’m pretty sure he’s just as worried as I am, but like, not because of his job but because of life and, have you ever walked down the street with him? It’s…” he shook his head, “I know I don’t have to tell him I worry because he knows, and he has enough stress without listening to me and really, he makes good money and most of the time his job consists on sitting down with old women looking pretty and nodding, so it really is not that dangerous.”

“What do you mean, walking down the street with him?”

“Oh shit. Uh,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “his sister died because a car skipped a red light, so…”

Eliza gasped and covered her mouth with a hand.

He nodded. “Honestly I should’ve noticed sooner. I mean, he puts an arm in front of me whenever we’re about to cross the street.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.”

“Old men are a lot more threatening than old women though.”

Alexander nodded. “But I’m sure she’s more than aware of it, and if she thinks she can keep working… look, she went to therapy and all.”

“I know.” She absentmindedly braided her hair on one side. “I just, I can’t help it.”

He nodded. “I know, I get it. But do you think there’s anything anyone can tell you that’ll lessen that worry?”

She chuckled. “She could say she’s getting a different job.”

“That’s unlikely.” He gave her a sympathetic smile and poured more whiskey on both of their glasses.

No, Alexander didn’t have a problem with Aaron’s job. He worried the reasonable amount, but he was not _scared_. The truth was, Alexander was not afraid of many things. He wasn’t afraid of spiders nor heights. He never had been afraid of the dark or big animals or dogs. He was afraid of geese, but he was sure everyone else secretly was, so that didn’t really count, did it? And just like all those other things, Alexander was not afraid of change. He was not afraid of change because he knew it was unavoidable. What scared him was getting too attached to anything he could lose, and Aaron, well, it was scary how heartbreaking the idea of losing Aaron had become, but he never connected that fear to Aaron’s job. It wouldn’t be fair, considering Alexander’s own. Besides, he knew people were in danger all the time. And maybe Aaron’s job invited danger in sometimes, but so did Alexander’s. The only thing that truly was a reason for concern, according to him, was that on most days he finished really late at night.

The night can be dangerous for many reasons, but people tend to underestimate it. They don’t really ignore facts, but believe that they’re entitled to keep living, that the rest of the world, that fraction that harms, is the one that needs to change and they’re not going to restrain themselves for them. The problem is that those that do harm have no intention to stopping either.

As a federal agent, Alexander knew this and hated it. Sometimes you couldn’t help to get angry at the victims, because they were unnecessarily reckless, but he knew that ultimately the only one to blame was the monster that inflicted harm. There was no excuse for their behavior, no traumatic experience or pitiful life could justify them doing the things they did, but sometimes, well, sometimes you couldn’t help thinking that if only the victim hadn’t been in a certain place at a certain time, it wouldn’t have been them. The thing was that it would’ve been someone else, really, but that hypothetical case excluded the crying relatives and friends that he unavoidably had to talk to while working cases. Since he worked in the Financial Crime section, he didn’t deal with that many homicides, but there still were an awful lot when it came to go around making questions. The people damaged by the crimes he investigated many times lost everything, and that included lives, even if it was by their own hand on occasions.

The night can be dangerous for many reasons, and Alexander, as an officer of the law, knew it. He knew it, but he faced a lot of dangerous things in his job, so the night wasn’t very high in his list of concerns, not when it came to himself.

That’s why when he got shot in a very shitty attempt of mugging, his first thought was “ _come on_ ”. He’d been up against mob bosses and _that_ was the most dramatic attempt on his life? He shortly lost consciousness after that, so he didn’t have time for more sensitive thoughts. When he woke up at the hospital not long after, Jefferson’s ugly smirking mug told him he had a similar opinion.

“Why is your ugly mug the first one I get to see when I wake up? Shouldn’t it be like, the love of my life or something?”

Jefferson arched one eyebrow and was about to answer something probably very annoying when there came a snort from the door.

“I hope that’s not God trying to send us a message then,” said Aaron, who was holding two cups. He passed one to Jefferson. “They don’t have any hot chocolate in this floor,” he added apologetically as he sat down on one side of the bed and grabbed one of Alexander’s hands, squeezing softly. “How are you feeling? You scared me.”

“You’ve got to admit him dying like that would’ve been hilarious,” commented Jefferson with a mocking grin.

Aaron took a deep breath and didn’t dignify him with an answer.

Alexander chuckled. “A little. I mean, it’s kind of ridiculous. And the kid looked like he was ten.”

Jefferson snorted.

“Did you call a nurse? We’re supposed to let them know when you wake up.”

“Yeah, I just pressed the button.”

“I’m okay,” said Alexander.

“You were literally unconscious not five minutes ago, Hamilton, don’t be idiotic.” The nurse got in, and Jefferson stood. “We’ll be just outside the door. Don’t be a baby.”

“I hate you, Jefferson.”

Jefferson rolled his eyes. “No, you don’t.”

Aaron chuckled and dropped a kiss on Alexander’s cheek. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“I love you,” said Alexander.

Jefferson grabbed Aaron’s arm and pulled. “We’ll pretend you’re high, Hamilton. Now answer the nurse’s questions.”

Alexander did. He really was okay, even though his arm hurt like hell. Still, the nurse stayed for like ten minutes and when they finally left, the only one who got in was Jefferson. Alexander frowned. “Where’s Aaron?”

“The love of your life? He had to take a phone call. And…” he made his way to Alexander’s bedside table—which was on the side of his injured arm—and grabbed Alexander’s phone, which was ringing too, “so do you. Here. It’s your dad.”

Alexander sighed. He could tell what was coming.

But outside, Aaron couldn’t. He had just finished retelling Abigail what had happened when he noticed Jefferson with his phone in his hand and coat under his arm.

He frowned. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of late. Take your time with your coffee, though. Hamilton was on the phone with his dad, and that might take a while.”

Aaron frowned, finished his coffee, and came back just as the call was about to end. He only heard the screaming then, and it shocked him.

Alexander growled a goodbye, threw his phone on the bed, and sighed after he noticed Aaron standing by the door. “Hey. I was just on the phone with my dad. Jefferson left already.”

Aaron sat down on the closest chair. “I thought your relationship was good?”

“It is, most of the time. I mean, it used to be great, really. And most of the time it’s like it used to be, but then, from time to time…”

“What happened?”

“I entered the FBI, I guess.” He sighed and tried to run a hand through his hair, but unconsciously used his bad arm, and winced with pain.

Aaron got a tie out of his pocket and braided Alexander’s hair.

“Thanks.”

Aaron kissed his forehead. “You’re welcome. Hey, you look pretty.”

Alexander blushed and cleared his throat. “It only gets really bad when I get hurt or something goes wrong, you know? The rest of the time, he’s okay with it. I mean, he always expected me to become an attorney, you know? And I think I wanted that too. I certainly wanted that in high school, and then I majored in pol sci because I wanted to go to law school, and then I actually got in and he was so proud and happy and I… I dropped out. Because I wanted to become a field agent.”

“Why’d you do that? What changed?”

Alexander shrugged. “Okay, I guess you should know that, uh, George, had a position in the FBI too, in management, he, uh,” he swallowed, “he was director for about, twelve years?”

Aaron blinked. “Your dad… your dad was the director of the FBI?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “so anyway…”

“He wanted you to be a lawyer like him?”

“I wanted to be a lawyer like him. I convinced him of it. I _loved it_ , I, sometimes I think I still do. I just…” he rubbed his forehead, “I don’t know. I don’t know what happened, I mean, I was getting good grades and all but I just…” he shrugged and raised his hands with his palms up, “I don’t know what came to me, but I threw it all out the window and just, became a field agent.”

“That was how long ago?”

Alexander sighed. “Seven years.”

“And he was still director then?”

Alexander shook his head. “His term had been extended and everything but had finished the year before. Still when he found out he almost got me kicked out because I didn’t tell him I was enrolling. But I had passed all the interviews and tests and stuff, so there was no reason for them to do that.”

“So I guess that whenever he’s reminded that you put your life in risk every day, when you could be a lot safer, it angers him.”

Alexander nodded. “I don’t blame him. I mean, if I were him I probably would’ve gotten me kicked out,” he chuckled. “I mean, what was I thinking?”

“Yes, but this,” Aaron pointed at his arm, “didn’t happen on the job.”

“Yes, that’s pretty ironic, but he didn’t like it when I pointed that out.”

Aaron snorted. “I imagine. Is he going to visit?”

“He was on his way here, but I told him not to. I don’t know if he’ll listen to me, though.”

There was a knock on the door, and after Alexander yelled to come in, his adoptive mother got in with a bag from their favorite bakery.

“Hello, dear, I brought you some snacks. How are you feeling?”

“Already better than a moment ago, which was pretty good, to be honest.”

She chuckled and sat down on a chair at the other side of the bed, across from Aaron. She smiled at him. “That’s good. Aaron, you look tired, here, have a muffin.”

Aaron wasn’t hungry, but he wasn’t going to say no to Martha Washington.

“I spoke to the doctor. It looks like you’ll be able to leave the hospital early in the morning. George offered to come pick you up.” She gave him a pointed look. “You’ll thank him and talk, yes?”

Alexander sighed. “Yeah, of course. Thanks.”

She nodded. “They’re giving you two weeks of medical leave.”

“What? That’s absurd! I’m okay!”

“Don’t argue with me, argue with your doctor.”

It wasn’t like anyone could argue with Martha anyway. George never did. Whenever he wanted to do something he knew she wouldn’t approve, he tried to keep it from her until it was too late to go back. However, when she wanted him to do something he didn’t want to do, to get out of it was a little trickier, lest to say impossible. When he picked up Alexander earlier the next morning, he figured that too had been Martha’s idea. His absolute silence was more than a giveaway, and Alexander didn’t care to confirm it. He was angry too.

In his apartment, Alexander thought back of his conversation with Eliza, and wondered if his lack of fear was a bad thing. He just knew that life could be unpredictable. He was a clear example of it, after all.

His doorbell rang, and he groaned as he got up to get it. He almost didn’t; he hadn’t ordered anything, and Harry—his doorman—always let everyone he knew in. However, when he got to the intercom, there was a knock on his door.

“Hey. Your doorman let me in, but I still thought you could use a heads up without ruining the surprise.”

Kissing Aaron hello was probably the best way one could start a day, so he did just that.

“I got you some groceries. Are you hungry?”

“I thought you had to work today.”

“I did. I just finished early.” He dropped the bags he was carrying in Alexander’s kitchen.

“You finished _very_ early.”

“Do you want food or what?”

“Okay, the charm is off, you worked. I’m certain of it. And yes,” he placed his uninjured arm around the escort’s waist, “I would love some food. I’m starving. You are my savior. I will be forever grateful.”

Aaron rolled his eyes and pinched Alexander’s nose. “I shouldn’t.” He kissed him, and in seconds, the agent freaked out. Aaron took a step back with barely contained laughter while Alexander gasped for air.

“That was evil!”

“Yes. Don’t piss me off.”

“I was literally shot not forty-eight hours ago. Have some mercy.”

“You’re such a giant baby.”

Alexander gasped. “No, I’m not!”

He was. Everyone who loved him agreed on that point. But trying to convince him of it wasn’t worth all the effort it would take, so Aaron focused on a far less stressful task: cooking in Alexander’s tiny kitchen. Perhaps the problem wasn’t the size, but how different it was from his, and how poorly equipped it was in comparison. Since Alexander hardly ever cooked, there were many utensils he never needed and therefore didn't own, but Abigail had taught Aaron well and many things, and his nutritionist’s diet didn’t exactly include fast food. He managed to make something more than delicious, and they spent the rest of the day lazily, talking about nonsense and watching Netflix. Eventually, Alexander cared to point out that his arm didn’t incapacitate him _at_ _all_ for certain activities, and Aaron decided to indulge the convalescent as many times as Alexander’s pain medication allowed—sleep came to steal him a little early, but Aaron didn’t mind. Just lying next to him was nice, and since he didn’t dare to turn on the TV to not disturb him, he hoped he would fall asleep soon too.

But he couldn’t. His mind wouldn’t let him. “Alexander?” he muttered, just in case he wasn’t asleep yet.

“Yeah?”

“Why did you become an FBI agent?”

Alexander sighed heavily. “If I told you it was because I liked The Secret X-Files a lot, would you believe me?”

“You dropped out of school. I very much hope it was not because of that.”

“No, it was not.” He cleared his throat. “You remember I told you I came to the city with my mom from Puerto Rico when I was a kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we didn’t just come looking for… I don’t know. Work. We came because… because bad things could happen to us, if we didn’t. But I didn’t know any details, and then we got sick and she died without telling me anything about it.”

“But now you know.”

“While I was in law school, I… something… happened. And I found out about a lot of… crap. And the best way of doing something about it was, well, becoming an agent.”

“Did you tell your father?”

“Kind of. Which was a mistake, by the way.”

“Why?”

“Remember I told you I didn’t know why he adopted me?”

“You were lying?”

“A little bit. I mean, I actually don’t know why, like, what the hell was the reasoning behind it, but I know why he found me.”

Aaron frowned. “Alexander…”

“Hey, I liked you, but I barely knew you. What was I supposed to tell you? Oh, yeah, he adopted me when I was twelve; he was director of the FBI and I was on the run from some dangerous gang—I was not going to tell you that.”

“Of course not. I’m sorry.”

Alexander sighed. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just… frustrating, because it’s been seven years, but I haven’t made any progress with it, and just… I just would like some justice for my mother, you know? But I swear it’s like most people here forget Puerto Rico is actually a part of the States. They act as if it’s none of their business.”

“People tend to do that when they don’t feel directly affected by something. Humans are selfish like that.”

Alexander knew it, because he was selfish too. He hugged Aaron and buried his face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. Like that, he fell asleep, dreaming of a world in which he didn’t have to worry, where his arm didn’t hurt and there weren’t any unsolved cases on top of his desk and he could keep Aaron all to himself.

He woke up early the next morning and spent a few minutes studying Aaron’s sleeping form. A thousand ideas popped to his head, ways to wake him up and wish him a good day, ways to try to get him to stay with him a little longer, but his arm made them all impossible. All but one, though that idea was of a different nature.

“What do you think you’re doing?” mumbled Aaron, straightening abruptly with heavy eyelids, when he noticed Alexander dressed for work.

“I’m okay. I’m perfect. I can go back to work!”

Aaron arched one eyebrow and stood up lazily. He stretched his arms over his head and made his way to Alexander, joining their lips softly. He then pressed the tip of his index finger against his injured arm.

Alexander hissed. “That’s not fair!”

Aaron didn’t say another word, and Alexander didn’t either. Not until he realized Aaron wasn’t going anywhere and he had to ask: “When do you have to leave?”

“Whenever you want me to. I canceled everything for today and tomorrow.”

Alexander gasped. “Really?”

Aaron hummed. “Rest. Watch a movie or read a book—”

“Can we binge watch a show?”

Aaron grinned. He had been expecting a little more resistance. “Sure.” He kissed him again, a little longer and thoroughly, but softly nevertheless, and led him back to bed.

They stayed there for hours. Aaron had intended to cook, but they were too comfortable and ended up ordering a pizza. Aaron’s nutritionist be damned. He could get used to that. But it couldn’t hurt if they both decided to leave one day every week to stay like that, right? He was about to comment it when Alexander got a text.

Alexander straightened to read it and froze.

“Alexander?” inquired Aaron, a little worried. Alexander seemed to ignore him completely. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Alexander? Are you okay? What happened?”

Again, Alexander didn’t move. Aaron bit his bottom lip and waited, unsure of how to proceed.

Hamilton turned, expression unreadable. “I must go,” was all he said, and stood up. He grabbed his wallet and keys and was glad he had put on clothes.

“What?” For some reason, a shiver went down Aaron’s spine. Whatever that message had contained, it had been big. He feared it had the potential to change things. Aaron didn’t want any more changes. He liked things the way they were, finally. “But where? Alexander…”

“I’m okay. I won’t go anywhere dangerous, just… you can stay. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Alexander just knew he _had_ to leave. He needed time and space to process what he had discovered, alone, and specifically away from Aaron. It was frustrating because he should’ve been happy. A couple of months ago he would’ve been happy. For the first time in seven years, he had a lead. For the first time in seven years, he had a name and a face to focus on, to go against and consider responsible for all the shit that had gone down those terrible, terrible years after they ran from Puerto Rico and that had battered down his mother so much that she couldn’t fight her illness. He had found his enemy, and he wasn’t happy, because how was he supposed to go against SAC Adams’s new girlfriend, and Aaron’s most beloved person?

Inside a cab, he checked the message again, and was angry and disappointed the name was still there. He didn’t know how he’d do it, but he was going to hunt Abigail Smith, and she was going to pay for what she did to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you all thought Alexander didn't have a dramatic backstory in this one at first!  
> Honestly I spent a long time wondering if I should write Aaron telling Alexander about Sally. I thought maybe it was too much, maybe the reader would feel like they'd already heard the story a thousand times. I considered simply describing what it felt like, for Aaron, to tell it all, and for Alexander to hear it, but I don't know, I'm bad at erasing what I already wrote and then somewhat that happened and I liked it.  
> The paragraph leading to Alexander's accident was, in fact, the beginning of this story, when I started writing it. Then I included the nightmares and it simply didn't fit, so I put it away, kept it just in case. I was glad I did, when I found the perfect place for it.  
> Thank you all for reading this far, and if you liked it or hated it, leave a comment and tell me why! I write the stories I want to read, but I only publish them because I like sharing them with you.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I was starting to think I would never finish it, but I got on a roll this weekened and I got it!

Alexander hadn’t spent as much time in Laurens’s apartment as one would expect back when they were dating. There wasn’t a particular reason for it, they just always ended up in Alexander’s. That was probably why being there didn’t bring him many memories. He probably had been there more often as a friend, and now, whenever he went, that was also what he was. So he didn’t feel guilty at all, for hiding out there. He was only with a friend, hanging out, having a good time…

“Alex, what the hell are you doing?” asked Laurens, who was probably tired of him barricading himself on his couch.

Alexander sighed. “I’m working, Laurens.” It wasn’t a lie. For the past week, he’d been working from John’s couch since he couldn’t go to the bureau. It didn’t matter. There were a lot of things he could do from his laptop now that he had somewhat of a lead.

“No,” John shook his head. “I’m asking why you’re hiding from your boyfriend. Last time I checked, you guys were great.”

“We are.”

John crossed his arms over his chest and arched one eyebrow. “So?”

“I told you I had a lead on my mother’s case.”

“Yes.”

Alexander swallowed. “The person I’m investigating… Aaron knows them. It makes me uncomfortable to do it near him. I haven’t told him yet.”

“Oh, shit.” Laurens sat down next to him and remade his ponytail. He always did that when he was nervous, and Alexander had ended up thinking of it as a sign that a dreadful conversation was coming. He grimaced in anticipation.

“You have to tell him.”

“What would I tell him? ‘ _Hey, you know the woman that is everything to you? The woman that’s like your mother? Yeah, turns out she’s responsible for a lot of shit and I’d like to throw her in jail_ ’, no, that’s not going to happen, Laurens, I’m not telling him that.”

John bit his bottom lip, speechless for a minute. “That’s… that’s very fucked up, dude.”

Alexander groaned. “I know!”

John sighed. “Okay. Sure, man. Stay as long as you need.”

Alexander snorted. “Thanks.” He would go home soon. He would. And then he would call Aaron, and talk to him, and explain it all. He would. He just didn’t know how and wasn’t exactly eager to find out. He wasn’t eager to find out how Aaron would react to it all, and to the fact that he was going after her. He might not even believe she was guilty of anything, and Alexander wouldn’t blame him, if only because he understood that she was like a mother to him, and facts may not matter.

In a way, facts didn’t matter to Alexander either.

There must be some sacrifices to build an empire, he knew that; and to a lesser scale than the drug lords, Abigail Smith had one. With over a hundred workers, her escort agency wasn’t the only business associated to her name. Her business had grown steadily through the years, allowing her to acquire a makeup line, an academy for models, and to sponsor a promising fashion designer. She had credit, alright. And he didn’t care if she had worked her ass off to get there. He didn’t care how much she had sacrificed for it, when the very first one had been the life of his mother and his own childhood. A person who dared to take money from a monster like Johann Lavien couldn’t be any better than a monster as well.

Johann Lavien was perhaps the most terrible, evil man Alexander had ever met. He was the same as the people he worked to lock down every day in many things, but Alexander still considered him worse. The fact that he’d only been to prison for a few years over a triviality and he kept living comfortably in Puerto Rico, hurting people, only angered him more. His resentment against the guy could only grow, with every new detail he learnt. The first time he’d heard his name he’d been seven and listening to grownups gossip about his mother. He hadn’t understood a thing, aside that the man was dangerous, and his mother had made him angry. He wanted to ask her about it, but if adults were too scared to say his name out loud, then he probably shouldn’t do it, much less write it down. But not three years later, he heard that damned name coming out of his mother’s lips. They were already on their way to New York City, and though no one was around, she also whispered. She told him that man hated her, and they were no longer safe in their home. She told him if he ever heard that name, he ought to be wary, and that that man wanted to hurt them both. He’d asked why, and she said it was because he was a bad man who only saw other people as toys, and he didn’t like to let go of his toys, much less when others touched those toys without his consent. After a long pause, she then explained she had been his favorite toy for a long time, but she left him, and he didn’t take it well. After he learnt she had started a family with someone else, he liked it even less.

As an adult, he could only speculate what kind of toy she had been, but he didn’t lose sleep because of it, he tried not to. If he thought of it too much, he might accidentally start thinking that his mother had some responsibility for her own death, and he would never accept that. The only people responsible for a murder are those who facilitate it, and the monster that wields the weapon, and his mother had been none of those things. Unlike Abigail Smith, who had looked for them, and then told a murderer where to find them. All of that, just so she could stop being a model and turn rich. She had destroyed Alexander’s already rearranged world, just so she could become rich as a pimp with a fancy office. So no, he had no respect for that woman and that made it harder to look at Aaron in the eye and tell him all that.

If only his next-door neighbor hadn’t warned him about a leak coming from upstairs, he would’ve stayed at Laurens’s for a decade if it meant not seeing Aaron again. But like a fool he went to check it out and make sure his apartment wasn’t flooded—it wasn’t, but it was starting to, hence he waited to see that it got fixed before that happened. He then had the brilliant idea to take a shower and sleep on his bed for once before leaving again, and of course, he answered Aaron’s FaceTime call while he got dressed.

“ _You’re in your apartment again?_ ”

Out of Aaron’s view, Alexander grimaced. After his escape about six days prior, he had invented a rat infestation that kept him out of his apartment and had argued that he couldn’t stay at Aaron’s because he only had a bathtub—a jacuzzi, really—and injured as he was, he was better at Laurens’s with his regular, crappy shower on a first floor, barely three blocks from his place. And because Aaron was Aaron, he didn’t call out his lie nor complained at all, but at this point, Alexander was certain a big fight was coming. He sighed.

“Yeah, I just came back today. They told me I could like, an hour ago. And because I was so happy to be back the first thing I did was jump in the shower. Laurens’s was really shitty.”

Aaron, bless his heart, didn’t mention his luxurious bathroom at all, nor how that would’ve been a better option by far. No, he just said: “ _Cool. I’ll bring take-out._ ” And hung up.

Alexander stared at his phone in disbelief for a solid minute, wearing nothing but pants and one sock, too shocked to even try to get out of that, although he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be possible. He simply got dressed and waited by the door to open it as soon as he heard knocking. By the time that happened, he already had tensed by the smell of the Chinese food that slid beneath the door before Aaron had time to knock, wearing a poker face and deliberately not kissing him hello. Alexander never thought he was clingy, but six months by Aaron’s side had taught him that if he didn’t see him in a few days, he would get touch starved. He wouldn’t let Aaron out of his reach for most of the night, and by the way he encouraged it, Alexander was certain Aaron enjoyed it. He’d known he was in trouble, of course, but he’d been hoping it wasn’t yet so deep, considering the bomb he was about to drop.

They ate at the table on the dining room, like they rarely did, and barely spoke a word. The atmosphere was tense and awkward, to say the least, and Alexander had no idea how to fix it without making everything worse. At least what he had to say would probably help ignore how he had stayed at his ex’s place for a week.

“Alexander, can we please talk?” asked Aaron eventually, once Alexander finally finished his plate. Aaron had finished a lot earlier.

But no, they couldn’t. Alexander wasn’t ready. He still needed to come up with the phrasing. He gulped and pushed his chair back. “Aaron…”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No!”

“Then what is it? Why are you avoiding me?” Aaron licked his lips. “I know it started when you got that message last week, but I have no clue what it was about.”

Alexander sighed heavily and looked away, putting even more distance between them, which only made it all worse. He knew he was hurting Aaron by not telling him, but he couldn’t help to be a little selfish and feel like the owner of that terrible information, free to decide when to share it and to whom. He knew that talking wouldn’t help, it would only make things harder. But it wasn’t like they were in a good place right then. It wasn’t fair. He always knew change was around the corner, and he was usually ready for it. It wasn’t fair that less than six months in a relationship with Aaron were enough to break down all his defenses. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that the one person that had helped Aaron had been the same person to condemn Alexander’s mother. And it wasn’t fair that he still had another week of medical leave, and he couldn’t go to the office when he finally had a lead after seven years. At least Jefferson was investigating, and no one was knocking on his door screaming ‘ _conflict of interest!’_. Hopefully no one would. That case had always been personal, even if many couldn’t tell at first.

He swallowed and stood up, making his way to the living room, hoping Aaron would follow. He did, and they sat down together on the couch, side by side, but shoulders not touching. “Remember I told you the reason I became an FBI agent was to get some justice for my mother?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” he ran a hand through his hair, “that’s… okay. Once we came to New York, she thought it would be over, but it wasn’t. He found us. The gang leader, he… he paid someone in here to find us and tell him exactly where we were. The other day, the guy that had acted as intermediary between Lavien, that’s the gang leader, and whoever he paid in New York City, finally talked. He’s been in prison for about eight years, but he hadn’t talked until now. And he only did it because they accused him of killing someone in prison and was facing a death sentence.” He swallowed and looked away. He himself had interrogated the bastard at least thirteen times, to no avail. “The person he accused… Aaron, the name he gave… Aaron, he said whoever gave my mother and me to Lavien was Abigail.”

Aaron felt the air escape his lungs and then nothing came back in.

“So, that’s why I’ve been kind of distant” _openly avoiding you,_ “lately. I mean, Aaron, I’m doing my best to throw her in _jail_. I get it if you’re mad at me, but—”

“I’m not,” said Aaron hurriedly. “I’m not mad at you,” he licked his lips. “I’m not.” He held his hand and squeezed reassuringly. “I’m not.”

But who was he reassuring? Alexander, or himself? He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He needed to go see Abigail. He needed to hear her side of the story. He knew her. She wasn’t a bad person.

Alexander kissed his knuckles. “I love you, Aaron. I’m sorry things are like this.”

Aaron shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s a little shitty,” he grinned nervously, “but you don’t have to apologize.” He bit his bottom lip and studied the agent’s face. His insides were still chaotic, but he was sure of one thing. “I love you too.”

There must be some sacrifices to build an empire, Aaron knew that, and Abigail had one. But he had been told that it had been Bentham the one to loan her the money, and even the times he wondered where Jeremy could’ve gotten that much, he never lost his mind over it. He couldn’t conciliate the idea of Abigail hurting people, much less Alexander. But _she had_. Deeply.

“I think I need to talk to her,” he added in a whisper. “Can I? If you want me to keep it a secret, I’d understand.” But should he listen? Didn’t he owe it to Abigail, to let her know that the feds were onto her?

“She knows what she did. We’ll bring her in for questioning soon enough, but…”

“I’ll wait until you do that.”

Alexander hadn’t dared to imagine such an outcome. He was speechless, staring into Aaron’s face, that gorgeous face that belonged to a man that for some reason loved him and wanted him to be a part of his life. He couldn’t believe it. It had to be a trap. It had to.

“Hey, how about you lie down? You’re still supposed to be resting,” he bit his bottom lip again. At this point it would bruise. “I was hoping I would get to play nurse before all this mess.”

It definitely had to be a trap. Only a trap would sound so nice. But wasn’t everything that came out of Aaron’s mouth nice? He gulped.

“Please,” whispered Aaron, “can we please take a timeout this week? While you’re still on leave?”

Alexander saw it then, the chance that this wasn’t a trap after all. Aaron was just as scared of change as Alexander. He was just as scared of throwing away the last six months that had been oh-so nice, that small shot at a healthy relationship—a first, for both of them—that timid idea that it could last a lifetime. He, like Alexander, was too scared to acknowledge what this new discovery would mean for them, and was asking to just try, for one week, to act like it hadn’t happened. And maybe it was delusional, and maybe it was stupid, but it felt like their love had an expiration date and Alexander had no intention of throwing away an entire week by Aaron’s side.

“What did you say about playing nurse?”

Relief washed through Aaron’s face and was quickly replaced by a grin that wanted to be cocky but only managed to be irresistible. “Well, how is that arm of yours? And your side?”

After a week resting? Alexander felt okay. Sure, he wasn’t going to hit the gym anytime soon, and carrying anyone in his arms wasn’t an option either, but pulling Aaron on top of him and laying back on the couch was more than okay. Urgently devouring Aaron’s mouth and running his hands all over him was decidedly more than okay.

Aaron felt like a traitor, and he felt betrayed. Deep down, he’d always known that if Abigail ever committed a crime, he would support her. It was survival. She was his entire support net, or at least had been for almost a decade, and he owed her his loyalty.

It still hurt that she was, even involuntarily, putting in jeopardy his best shot at a romantic relationship.

He knew that she should come first. He knew that in his heart, if he had to choose, he would always pick her. She was the closest thing he had to a mother, and he loved her. He knew she loved him, and never expected anything in return for all the things she had done for him. Alexander might love him, but he did so expecting Aaron to love him back. Or at least, that was at the base of their relationship nowadays, and that was okay. That was okay because Aaron’s loyalty also depended on that reciprocity. And that was okay. It was okay because reciprocity felt wonderful. And that reciprocity was evident in every touch, every look, and every sound they exchanged. They didn’t need to use words to tell each other how right they felt, how much they loved, how much they needed, because their synchrony was on point, and because they cared enough to listen and watch and react accordingly to what they evaluated best, rationally or instinctively.

“You going?” asked Alexander, all droopy eyes, satisfied on his bed, once he noticed Aaron getting dressed after his shower.

“I’m sure nurses aren’t supposed to sleep with their patients,” replied Aaron playfully. He loved staying the night, of course, but he had a job at noon and with Alexander by his side, he would definitely be late.

“Please stay. I sleep better when you’re with me.”

If he tried to leave really early he could compensate for the time Alexander would make him waste, right? He just had to be organized, plan ahead. Get up at least two hours earlier than what his job merited.

So he did that for an entire week. For an entire week, he barely left Alexander’s side; he still went to work, but at the end of the day, he was back at Alexander’s apartment and it almost felt like they had all the time in the world. It felt like they had all the time on the world while they kissed and touched and rutted against each other. It felt like they had all the time on the world when they slept side by side, when they were the first thing they saw every morning, when they had breakfast together and commented the news. The few occasions in which a little urgency slipped into them were the minutes before Aaron left for work, because it included the outside world and their problems were there, on the outside. But they wouldn’t talk about it. They only would pull a little tighter, kiss a little deeper, stare a little longer in a pregnant silence. An entire week, that lasted. But then Monday came, and Alexander’s medical leave ended, which got him out of bed by six am, like never before. If Aaron didn’t know how much Alexander liked his job, and how crazy it drove him being confined to his apartment, he would’ve gotten offended. Under the heat of the sheets, not fully awake, he was a little offended.

“You’re leaving before I am?” asked Aaron without moving from the bed.

Alexander chuckled. “It appears so.” He sat next to Aaron and rested a hand on each side of his head as he bent down to kiss him lazily. “But you can stay as long as you want.”

“Thank you, I won’t move then.”

Alexander hummed. “Will you be waiting for me when I get home?”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Nice.”

Alexander’s grin was such a delightful sight, Aaron kept it at the back of his head all day. Their week was technically over, and there was something heavy at the pit of his stomach, but his heart still dared to beat with the hope that things could stay the way they were. And he showered and cooked and ate with that thought always present, even as he got dressed for his one job of the day.

He didn’t make it to the agency until a quarter past five in the afternoon, still high on the feelings from last week, still clinging to it all, and almost missed the huge commotion on the lobby. But Maria had been waiting for him and quickly held onto his arm and whisked him away to fill him in discreetly, whispering in his ear: “Abigail was arrested this morning!”

“What?” Aaron could hear his own heartbeat on his ears, and he wanted to throw up. The week had felt like an end, but he never thought it actually was one. Not until they talked, at least. He had thought that once Alexander went back to work, and Abigail’s situation was exposed to her, things would turn tense. They might argue, and he might have needed to take sides. Never, not once, he considered being excluded of Alexander’s life.

So he called him to try to make sense of what the hell that meant. He had to wait so long he thought Alexander wouldn’t even answer, but he did. And then he didn’t say anything, not even hello.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” whispered Aaron once it became evident Alexander wouldn’t be the first one to talk.

There was a long silence at the other end of the line. Then: “ _I’m sorry._ ”

There was no need to say it had been deliberate. That much was obvious.

“I waited,” he swallowed down the lump in his throat, “I’ve been waiting for _this_ so I could talk to her. If I didn’t talk before, why couldn’t you at least warn me when it was going to happen? Why couldn’t you trust in me?”

“ _It’s not that,_ ” it was obviously that, “ _but that’s how it works, baby, I can’t give civilians details about this sort of thing. I’m sorry._ ”

“You could’ve at least texted me when it was done. But you weren’t going to tell me, ever. You just wanted someone else to do it.” His thumb found the red circle on his screen before he could hear another meaningless apology, and then he nearly smashed it as he placed his phone down on his dresser, needing an urgent release for his anger.

The fire in his gut cooled down a minute later after he received a text with Abigail’s location and indications to be able to talk to her, courtesy of Agent Hamilton.

Aaron was a traitor alright, because he knew that if Alexander had told him about the arrest beforehand, he wouldn’t have warned Abigail. But that didn’t matter, because Alexander didn’t trust him enough to reach that point, and maybe that was a good thing, that he wouldn’t be exposed like that, even if he still knew it and still felt like shit. The only reason he didn’t betray Abigail was because Alexander didn’t give him the chance to betray _him,_ and could he really be offended by that? His loyalty might have been misplaced, but he was a traitor nevertheless; the offense Alexander feared would’ve happened wasn’t that far from the truth. And maybe it was even better if Alexander thought he would’ve gone to Abigail, like he should have. Maybe Aaron would let him believe that. But on his way to see Abigail, he knew he wouldn’t lie to her.

She was in a police precinct, in a holding cell, even though the case against her belonged to the feds. She was wearing orange. An officer led him to her and gave him a sympathetic smile when he asked if he could bring her coffee. He couldn’t know how much that detective knew; maybe she didn’t know anything. Who knew what it was that she saw, but she was kind, and he was grateful for that. He was grateful for a little of kindness in the middle of very dark times, where two thirds of his world seemed to be spiraling away and out of his control, and he could no longer know what he was dealing with.

When she saw him, there was both joy and worry on her face. There was also shame, and Aaron wished he could go inside with her and tell her not to worry, to not be ridiculous. She had seen him at his lowest, had offered him a hand and a ladder, and had helped him to get where he was now. She was also the reason his happiness and stability were being threatened, but at least she hadn’t done that on purpose, and he ought to give her a chance to speak her case, to him at least. It was the least he could do, after everything she had done for him.

After an awkward minute of asking her how she was, she said: “Come on. Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here? Or did your boyfriend already spill the beans?”

They were alone, but he still looked around before asking: “Is it true? Were you involved with that Lavien man?”

“It was a long time ago,” she declared a little wobbly. “I was young and stupid and… I’m sorry.”

Aaron wanted to hold her hand. He wanted to hug her and tell her that everything would be alright, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t know what was going to happen, and he couldn’t help to be angry at her. He pushed those feelings away. “Tell me what happened, Abigail, please.”

She sighed shakily and nodded. “You know I used to be a model.”

“Yes. But I thought Jeremy had helped you start the agency.”

“Jeremy did help me. He helped me a lot. But first, the bastard of Lavien did. He…” she licked her lips, “he made me an offer I couldn’t resist. I obviously should’ve, but I was so eager to start my business and no one else seemed to want to help, that I…” she shrugged and fixed her eyes on her coffee. “He gave me money. A lot of money. It was supposed to be just a loan. I wasn’t supposed to do anything other than pay him back with interests.”

Aaron swallowed. “But?”

“He changed the rules later. Once I already had spent the money, he asked me to do a couple of things for him.”

“He asked you to find a person.” _He asked her to surrender Alexander’s mother._

“I tried to say no, Aaron. I honestly tried.”

“But you did it!” He threw his head back, blinking and taking a deep breath. “You did it,” he repeated, as if he needed to do so to believe it. Because for the last couple of hours, no, the last couple of days, he’d been _praying_ for it all to be false. He’d wanted her to be innocent so badly… but, she wasn’t. She was partially responsible for the death of Alexander’s mother.

And Aarons still loved her. He loved her, and he loved Alexander. And for doing so he hurt them both.

“I’m sorry.”

She should say that to Alexander, not to him. He nodded. “It’s okay,” it wasn’t. “I…” he looked at her, saw what she needed to hear, and wondered why she would need it from him. “I forgive you, Abigail.” He was still mad at her, but that was the truth. He forgave her for giving up a young woman, knowing that she was probably getting her killed. He just had to stop thinking that that young woman had been Alexander’s mother. “And I’m going to try to get you out of here.”

“John is doing that. If you could, I’d like you to worry about the agency.”

“Of course,” he agreed easily. Protecting his job didn’t feel like spitting on Alexander’s face. He swallowed as he heard the steps approaching, probably to tell him he had to leave. “I should get going, but I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“They’re probably going to move me soon. I don’t know,” she grimaced. “But I’ll have you informed, okay?”

He nodded. “Be careful, Abby. Be safe.”

“Don’t you worry about me, boy… just, take care of my business.”

“Of course.” He wished they had more time, and he wanted to run away all the same, because seeing her like that hurt too much. She didn’t belong in a cell. Or maybe she did. She had committed a crime, after all. But Aaron was selfish, and he wanted her to be alright, and he wanted his stability back. He wanted his mother back.

There was another thing he wanted back. A thing he hadn’t yet lost. As he turned the key on the ignition, he made up his mind, and drove in the opposite direction of his apartment.

֍

Alexander was more than used to hear knocking on his door by now. There was one doorman that always let the people he knew in, and it should be annoying, it was even dangerous. He refused to believe the guy had that good of a memory, he had let Thomas in after he had visited _once_. It was ridiculous. But then again, there were others that visited him quite often, and unless he approached him and asked him to stop letting them in, he couldn’t be mad at him for it. Well, he could. He wasn’t doing well his fucking job. But most of the time, when he was expecting those visits, he didn’t mind. He minded when he wasn’t expecting anyone, because he didn’t like not knowing who was on the other side of the door. He didn’t like not knowing how to react to a closed off face at the other side of the door.

He stepped away to let him in anyway, because whatever it was he wanted to discuss, they wouldn’t do it on the hallway.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight,” he mumbled.

“Hey. I’m sorry. Are you busy? I thought I could make you dinner.”

Alexander thought Aaron wouldn’t be back anytime soon. “No, I’m… I haven’t eaten yet. You?”

“Nope.” He shifted in his feet, feeling awkward under Alexander’s penetrating gaze. “Would you like some pasta?”

“Yeah, sure…” he cleared his throat and simply watched Aaron slid into the kitchen like he’d done many times. He always complained about it, said it was too small and that Alexander didn’t have enough cookware, but he always managed to make wonderful meals. Before he noticed, he had gotten used to having a homemade dinner after particularly exhausting days, and he guessed this one qualified as one.

Still, he didn’t dare to join him there like he would often do. He only stepped inside the kitchen to grab silverware.

“How is it?” asked Aaron once the silence had extended well into their meal.

“Delicious.”

“Ask what you want to ask, Alexander.”

“Why are you here?”

“If you want me to leave, I’ll—”

“No,” he frowned. “No, don’t be ridiculous. I never want you to leave. I love you. The idea of you leaving fucking terrifies me, but,” he licked his lips, “I didn’t think you’d want to be here.” After Alexander had failed to inform him about Abigail’s arrest, he was certain Aaron would at least be angry for a little while. It had only been three hours since he called.

Aaron had always envied those who could speak the truth so easily. Then he met Alexander, and he realized it could be both, a strength and a weakness, and he stopped being jealous, because he found a new appreciation to his own performing skills. At times like this, he didn’t even have enough time to feel envy. He just had time to struggle a little as he did his best to reciprocate.

“I love you too,” he confessed. It wasn’t the first time he said it, and he had meant it every single time, but then it felt different nevertheless. “And sure, this isn’t… easy. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or feel, but I… I love you. And I want to be with you, for as long as you’ll have me, Alexander.”

At this point, if Aaron told him he was going to help get Abigail out of the country and screw over his investigation, he probably still would’ve said: “Okay.”

They didn’t say much else that night. There were no more questions, no accusations, not even a glare. They just ate, did the dishes together, as usual, and then slid into bed like they’d been doing for the past week, if only with shier kisses and lighter caresses that still led to urgent orgasms.

By now, it was a proven fact. Alexander slept way better when he had Aaron by his side.

֍

There must be some sacrifices to build an empire. Some people just don’t get it. Some people think that nothing is worth sacrificing a person’s life, or your morals and principles, but at the time Lavien had approached Abigail, she didn’t have that many of either. She had been ambitious and beautiful and thought she was smarter than what she really was. She had been starving. And she had been angry. Angry at the world and at the people that lived in it. She hadn’t cared about other people’s suffering. She had always known it was there, trying to trick her into being grateful and ignoring her own suffering, but she had believed fiercely that just because some had it worse didn’t mean that she couldn’t aspire to be better, and she still thought so. What maybe she wouldn’t do now, was making other’s suffering worse to make things better for herself. She knew that was wrong. She knew that seventeen years ago she had made someone else’s life worse, but she hadn’t known to what extent, still didn’t. A woman died because she told someone else where she was. But if it hadn’t been her, someone else would’ve done it. And that hadn’t been a condition of her loan, not until later. When she looked for her, she did it because she had to. She did it because her other option—torture, probably, or a loved one’s death—sucked, and she had already made the mistake of taking the money a bad man offered. She had been an ambitious, desperate fool, who thought that she was smarter than what she really was.

The sound of her cell door being open and a plastic bag with her belongings being thrown inside by a guard brought her back to the real world, and out of her dark thoughts. Only then did she notice the little man standing outside.

“John?”

“Get dressed, Abigail. I’m taking you out of here.”

She had known John would try, of course. She even dared to believe he would succeed, eventually. But she only had been in a cell for a day, and couldn’t believe it, not even as John explained after they jumped on his car.

Her crime—accepting money from Lavien—had already prescribed, and there was no way of connecting her to the henchman that later told the gangster about Rachel Faucette, aside from said henchman’s testimony. Even if she had told him where to find the woman, the murderer was still a third guy, hired by Lavien, and even if she admitted that she had said something, it had been under coercion. If she had to invest time and money to search for the woman, there was no evidence of it, and if they insisted to lead an investigation about it, they would do so with her free on bail.

John knew people made mistakes. He understood. He also understood that some mistakes were bigger, worse than others.

And yet, he couldn’t seem to care.

Having breakfast across from her in a nice café near Central Park, John tried to imagine the woman in jail. He had seen her, and still he couldn’t. He tried to imagine he was the one to put her there. He couldn’t.

“I’m angry at you,” he said.

“I imagine.”

He shook his head. “You should’ve told me.”

“What? That I started my business with drug money? No, thanks.”

“Your crime already prescribed. _That’s_ why you are free.”

“I know, or I would still be in jail.” She sighed. “If there was anything connecting me to that woman’s murder you would’ve arrested me already.”

As a respectable federal agent, that should’ve been the truth, and he should’ve been proud to admit it. But it wasn’t the truth, and hearing it made him cringe, so he hurried to clarify with an edge of despair in his voice: “No, I wouldn’t have!” he held her hand on top of the table. “I wouldn’t have, Abby, I couldn’t. But Hamilton… he is so angry, Abby, and I don’t blame him.”

Abigail brought his hand to her lips and gently kissed his knuckles. “You are a good man, John Adams. I love you.”

He stole her hand back and kissed her as well. “I love you too. That’s why… that’s why I don’t want to ask you to, but… you should testify against Lavien.”

“What?” she frowned. “About what?”

“As a character witness.”

“But I never met him.”

But she gave him information, and two days later the woman she told him about was dead. “But he gave you money, and then he changed the rules, didn’t he? Abby…” he licked his lips, “you owe it to Hamilton.”

If she was fully honest, even though she was sorry, she didn’t much care about Hamilton’s opinion of her. The problem was that Aaron did, and she cared about _that._ She pursed her lips and looked away. “I’m not going to put my agency in jeopardy for nothing. You need to assure me he’ll go to jail, and that he’s not going to send his people after me.”

“Abby.”

“I mean it, John. I—”

“Marry me.”

Abigail stopped talking, eyes wide for a moment. “What?”

“I love you. I want to live with you. And I could protect you, if you were my wife. But I want to lock that guy, Abby. I’ll do my best to keep your identity hidden from him. I can promise you that. But if I couldn’t… then I’d find a way to protect you.”

Abigail squeezed the hand that was still holding hers. “What? No ring? Don’t be so lazy, Agent Adams!”

John grinned. “We could go pick one together.”

She hummed and took a long sip of her glass of water. “I’d like that. I’ll teach you my size so you can buy me others in the future.”

John nodded. “And I’ll write it down, just in case I forget.”

She grinned. “You’ve learnt well, my love.”

And those were the better lovers, those that listened, because it meant they paid attention, and people only pay attention when they care. And caring can be tiring; it takes effort, it’s not simple, but people still do it when they think the other person is worth it. That’s why exhaustion can drive people to fall out of love. But there are ways to fight it. Together, people who love each other can fight it, and keep the feelings alive. It doesn’t even need to be rational, a person doesn’t need to know it beforehand to recognize it on the act and find a way to fix it. Aaron, for example, never knew before that even the strongest relationships needed that effort, but he had learnt it with Alexander after a few months together.

The times they were facing now, they were chaotic and difficult and none of them really knew how to deal with, but they were trying, together. Or so they had decided. But soon enough, Aaron noticed changes that his lover didn’t care to vocalize, to acknowledge, much less to explain.

For some reason, Alexander didn’t seem to like visiting Aaron anymore, which was weird, because ever since Maria moved out in July—and before Alexander got shot—they tended to get together there, for Aaron liked cooking in his kitchen, that was bigger, and overall nicer.

Aaron didn’t know what to make of it, because Alexander didn’t have a problem when it was Aaron visiting him. Aaron couldn’t be the problem. He wasn’t avoiding him not pushing him away, but whenever he visited, he acted odd and tried to leave soon—when Aaron visited him, he wouldn’t let him leave. And Aaron had definitely grown in the past year and had dared to be more open, to face others when something was bothering him, but he had a limit, and it wasn’t in his plans the chance of bringing even more conflict when they were already in a delicate place. He figured he just had to wait for it to pass, or maybe insist to spend time at his apartment until the reason for it blew spectacularly on his face. To Aaron, those two options were all he had left; a reasonable conversation in a neutral place was unreachable, because it would have to come from him, and he had no intention of bringing it up.

“No,” said Alexander, as expected, one Tuesday afternoon inside Aaron’s car, while they were deciding where to go. “Let’s go to my place.”

Aaron frowned. “We’ve been going there for the last _month_.”

Alexander’s lips tightened in a line, and he remained silent.

“I just… I was thinking I could bake something, and I couldn’t do it at your apartment,” muttered Aaron weakly. “I have everything I need. Just…”

“No,” insisted Alexander, brusquely parking on one side of the road. “No. I don’t want to go to your place. I don’t… I’m sorry. I just… _she_ helped you buy the place, and I…!”

 _She_. The woman that had broke Alexander’s world, that was free, even under investigation and would probably never pay for it.

Sure, _she_ had helped. But she was his boss. All of Aaron’s money came from her, one way or another. And it was still Aaron’s very nice apartment.

“Alexander…”

“I know. Aaron, I _know_. I just… I can’t help it.”

Alexander was selfish. He wanted Aaron all to himself. He knew that wasn’t possible, but to think of that horrible woman near him, to think of that horrible woman sitting on the living room, giving Aaron advice on the kitchen, helping him decorate… it was too much. It was too much to feel surrounded by her all the damn time.

He also knew he was being unfair to Miss Smith. Perhaps she wasn’t horrible. She _had_ done a lot of good, to Aaron at least, but to him, she was the epitome of evil. He considered her responsible for most of the bad in his life, and the fact that she wouldn’t pay at all only angered him further.

Aaron didn’t know what to do with the new discovery. He liked his apartment. It was _his_ apartment, after all. His. And yes, Abigail had helped him, but the apartment was only _his_. It meant something for him.

He didn’t know how to feel about it, meaning something else for Alexander.

They reached a temporary agreement—or at least, Aaron wanted it to be temporary —in which they only met at Alexander’s place. He even took some of his bowls and molds and pans to make his life easier, and his clothes started piling up there as well. His razors and lotions had been in Alexander’s bathroom already. It wasn’t so bad. But it made Aaron value the time he spent at his own place, and he was grateful each time he had an excuse for it. He didn’t have that many. In all honesty, the one he had was that Maria was visiting.

Maria visited him so often sometimes he wondered why she had left at all. He only had asked her once though, back in August, and her answer had been so straightforward and reasonable he never had to ask again— ‘ _The sex, of course. When you live with your partner you get to fuck in every single room and no one can complain. Have you ever tried it on the kitchen?_ ’

Aaron hadn’t, of course, because he actually used the kitchen for what it was made for, and that would’ve been awfully unhygienic, but Maria still insisted from time to time that he should try it.

“Okay, what is it?” asked Maria after a few minutes of pleasant conversation, giving him an unamused look.

“Huh?”

“I just told you I’m going to Italy for a month with my lover and you barely said it was _nice_. What the hell, man?” She sighed and leaned back on the couch, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s on your mind?”

Aaron bit his bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s Alexander, he… he doesn’t like coming to my apartment. And I get his reasons, but I… I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I like my apartment,” he shrugged one shoulder. “And I like it when he’s here. And sometimes I can’t drive the extra forty minutes from the agency to his place, so I’d like it if he could compromise and come here.”

She frowned. “What a dick.”

“Maria…”

“But I don’t get it. Even back when I lived here he would visit, and I never thought he had a problem with it.”

“That’s because back then he didn’t.” He rubbed the back of his neck and took a deep breath. Really, it was already a miracle he hadn’t told Maria about it in the three weeks he’d known it. “He has a problem with it _now_ , because Abigail helped me buy it.”

“So?”

“So… Abigail told some bad people where Alexander and his mother were hiding, back when he was a kid. Those bad people killed her.”

“Shit, what? How did that—why, why would Abigail do such a thing?”

“The leader of the bad people had given her a loan. That was the money she used to start the agency.”

“So now whatever that money buys is dirty to him? And that includes the place where you live?”

“The money for my apartment only exists because of his mother’s sacrifice. I can’t just ask him to forget about it.”

Maria grimaced. “I still think he’s being kind of a dick. I mean, I’ve never been to his place, but I’m sure it isn’t as nice.”

Aaron frowned. “I don’t care. I like Alexander’s apartment, it’s nice.”

“Then why is this such a big deal? If you want to see him, you visit him and that’s it.”

It wasn’t that simple. Aaron _liked_ his apartment. And he liked Alexander. Well, he loved Alexander. He wouldn’t pick his apartment over him, never. But he didn’t like to leave his home just to see his boyfriend all the time, it wasn’t comfortable. It was annoying. There was something important about being with Alexander in his own space.

It was nice though, that he wasn’t exactly a guest in Alexander’s place. He couldn’t help to think about being in Theodosia’s place—he didn’t have much to compare, after all—which she had shared with her husband, where he couldn’t even think of leaving a trace of himself behind, and it was… a nice change, to be more than welcomed. But it wasn’t enough to drown out the fact that Alexander refusing to step inside his apartment was only another symptom of a bigger problem, a problem which Aaron hadn’t the least idea of how to solve.

He still didn’t know what to do about it by the time he got called to Abigail’s office the next day around noon, but he quickly threw it all at the back of his mind—where he liked to keep it whenever he found himself under nicer circumstances—after he heard what she had to say.

“You’re getting married?”

She nodded. “I am.”

“To Mr. Adams?”

“Yes, of course.” She licked her lips. “And I’d like you to be my witness.”

A month ago, Aaron would’ve said yes without a second thought. He would’ve hugged her, and he might have even cried. But now he hesitated, even if it was for a fraction of a second. He still smiled, and there was some moist in his eyes while he pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you. I would be honored.” Even if he probably wouldn’t have a plus one for the event.

֍

With so little time before the wedding, and since they weren’t planning on throwing a big party, they didn’t bother in sending invitations. Each of them would personally inform the few people they wanted to have at the ceremony, and for John, that meant about two people that worked with him and were discreet when needed. He’d been done shortly. But then Abigail gave him a difficult task: to get Hamilton to agree to assist. John had argued, of course, that it probably was on everyone’s best interest if he didn’t, but Abigail wasn’t a woman easy to persuade. He didn’t think he’d ever been able to change her mind. And she seemed to believe that Aaron would need him by his side, even if he didn’t dare to ask him.

Thus, it became poor John Adams’s responsibility to make sure the stubborn agent went. It sounded impossible. But he didn’t make it to where he was with his looks. He was smart and resourceful, and he came with a plan after a few hours of thinking.

He collected all the data he had on the case, wrote down some hidden details about the first audience and slid the transcription of it as well, hoping that if he read Abigail’s statement his anger against her would decrease.

He threw the folder on top of his messy desk wishing he wouldn’t need to explain what it was about, but he didn’t have such luck.

“What is this?” asked Hamilton, right away, gluing him to the spot with inquiring eyes that knew too much, while one hand flew to the file ready to read it all.

John pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “This is me, and my future wife, helping you.”

Alexander recognized the information on a case he wasn’t a part of anymore. “You’re marrying her?”

“Don’t focus on that, boy. We’re helping you.”

“You’re protecting her!”

“You’re damn right, I am! She’s putting her neck in the line right now to try to help you!”

Alexander huffed, crossing one leg over the other. “You are a ridiculous man, sir. That woman took money for a criminal. She runs a questionable business to say the least—”

“And your boyfriend works in that business, boy, don’t forget it.”

Oh, Alexander hadn’t. He couldn’t. It was on his mind constantly nowadays, especially now that a new trial against Lavien had started, including the charges of conspiracy to commit murder and murder, and as the son of an alleged victim, Alexander had to testify. Jefferson had suggested Abigail Smith might speak in court as well, but Alexander hadn’t believed him. He now realized his partner had been certain of it, since he probably had been one of the first to hear about SAC Adams’s wedding.

Aaron was already waiting at his apartment with the dinner ready, but that wasn’t enough to cool down his anger. He was furious. The entire situation made him furious. That everyone could ignore the damage Abigail Smith’s actions had caused made him furious.

“I don’t want to eat. I’m not hungry,” he growled after angrily throwing his jacket on top of his couch. “Thanks though,” he added, because he liked to think he wasn’t a complete asshole.

Aaron seemed concerned. “Something happened at work, or…?”

Alexander laughed. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” He sat down, throwing his head back and trying to focus on his white ceiling in a poor attempt to find peace. It didn’t work. “My boss tried to be nice, gave me a binder full of stuff about the Lavien’s court case.”

“Oh, but isn’t that… a good thing?” Alexander had been complaining about his restricted intel ever since it happened two weeks ago.

“Yeah, it could be, if only Adams hadn’t given it to me just to let me know about his engagement to that… to your boss!” He stood up just so he could angrily pace around. If his mind hadn’t been so busy, he would’ve noticed Aaron paling against the frame of the door that led to the hallway.

Aaron’s phone rattled against the table with a message, but he ignored it.

“I just can’t believe he’s doing this!” He turned abruptly and only then noticed Aaron’s expression. “You knew, didn’t you?”

Aaron swallowed. “She told me, two days ago.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

Alexander had _arrested_ Abigail and he hadn’t told Aaron. What gave him the right to be that angry?

“He’s trying to make her untouchable. With that, and how she’s speaking against Lavien on court, she’s never going to pay for what she did!”

“I thought you trusted in the system. Why can’t you trust that if she gets off it’s because she didn’t deserve anything more?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“She helped under coercion. If she hadn’t, she would’ve been punished, and someone else would’ve done it. You got to know that!”

Alexander looked livid, and they just stared into each other’s eyes for a minute, either backing down. The rattling on the table was deafening.

“Fuck, just answer the damn phone, fuck!”

Aaron almost didn’t, but his eyes caught the name on his screen and he froze. He didn’t think the man had ever called him before; him having his number was more of a formality than anything. His hand was shaking as he took the phone to his ear. “Jeremy?”

“ _Finally! I’ve been trying to reach you for too long, boy!_ ”

“I’m sorry, I was, I was in the middle of something. What happened?”

“ _It’s Abby. She’s in the hospital._ ”

“What?”

“ _I don’t know much more. She’s at Mercy General. Just hurry, boy._ ”

“Yeah, I’ll call you when I get there.” He hung up and dropped his phone. His other hand slid over his mouth, drowning a gasp.

“Aaron?”

“It was…” he swallowed and cleared his throat, but kept his hand over his mouth, “it was Bentham. Abigail is in the hospital, and I… I have to go see her.”

He didn’t hear what Alexander said next, or if he said anything at all. He just grabbed his wallet and he left, leaving his jacket and keys behind, but he didn’t even notice. He took a cab to get to the hospital, way too shaky and worried to try to drive, and then ran all the way to the floor and hallway where Bentham had said he’d be waiting.

“Jeremy?”

Jeremy Bentham seemed relieved to hear his voice, at least, but the color of his face and the tremor of his hands were disheartening. “Hey, boy, I’m glad you’re here.”

“What happened?”

“Apparently one of her lungs collapsed, but that’s all I know. They won’t tell me more,” explained Jeremy.

Aaron didn’t ask how that happened. Abigail was the healthiest person he knew. The one threat to his life was the fact that she was testifying against a Puerto Rican gangster. “Where’s Mr. Adams?”

“He went outside for a smoke. He called me because you didn’t pick up and hoped I could reach you.” He laughed, once, humorlessly. “That’s kind of rude, you know? I’m her friend too. I would’ve liked knowing even if you answered him.”

“I’m sorry.”

Bentham patted him on the back. “It’s okay. I know I’m not as important to her as you are.”

That should’ve been ludicrous, and a younger Aaron would’ve argued.

He didn’t.

“You’ve known her longer than I have,” still he said, if anything, to be polite.

“I’ve always been her friend. You’re like her son, boy. You _are_ more important, and John knows it.”

And at this point, Aaron knew it too. He knew it because she was majorly important to him as well. He knew it because the minute he received that call, he felt like a fifteen-year-old waking up in the hospital to hear that he was all alone in the world. Terror almost overcame him while he was still on the phone with no information. And it didn’t matter if he was in love or if he had friends or if he had a job and an apartment he owned. The one thing that mattered was that Abigail was in the hospital. Because if he ever broke up with Alexander, it would hurt, but he could date again in the future. He could fall in love again.

He wouldn’t get another Abigail. He already had lost one mother he couldn’t remember and a sister that tried to fill up that role but couldn’t. The idea of losing the one person who had was paralyzing. And he was paralyzed, lost in his thoughts and unable to sit down, until a doctor came out to tell them she was out of surgery. He didn’t say she was out of danger, but he didn’t tell them to expect the worst, which was a small victory all in all. He told them all they could do was wait, and that she wouldn’t wake up any time soon, even told them to go home. John Adams was the only one that vocalized the general opinion to that statement, with an incredulous huff.

Then Aaron sat down next to Jeremy, and they talked a little for a while; a little bit of everything and a little bit of nothing. They talked the way people do when they’re on a waiting room, uncertain and averse to hoping too much and fearing too much. Best and worsts scenarios were kept away, out of self-preservation. But eventually Jeremy left, saying he would try to get some sleep and would be back in the morning, asking Aaron to call him the minute something changed, which Aaron promised.

He shared a look with Mr. Adams, wondering if the man might want to talk, but he seemed as uncomfortable with the idea as Aaron himself felt. They barely knew each other, and their connection with Abigail was of a nature so different it almost felt as if they didn’t have the right to interact without her present in the room. He hoped the weak smile he gave the man when he said he would go get a coffee expressed that, that he didn’t dislike him as much as he didn’t know him. He then realized the man probably didn’t care, just like Aaron couldn’t care less if Special Agent in Charge John Adams liked him or not. He made Abigail happy, so he liked that he was around, but he never stopped to think twice on what the man might think of him. Maybe the feeling was mutual. And under the current circumstances, that indifference only grew. Glued to his chair, all his concerns circled Abigail’s condition, which explained why he didn’t pay attention to the newcomer until he was standing right next to him, offering him a thermos with hot chocolate.

He grabbed the thermos with a puzzled face. “Alexander?”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

Alexander sighed. “I know I’ve been an asshole lately, but I’m not usually that terrible, right? I mean, I try not to.” He sat down next to him and held his free hand. “I’m not actually worried about her, but I care about you. I’m not going to let you here alone.”

“I’m not alone. Your boss is somewhere in the building, and Jeremy just left.”

Alexander squeezed his hand. “I want to be here for you. But if you want me to leave, I’ll leave.” He glanced at him with poorly hidden panic. “But please don’t ask me to leave.”

Aaron wanted to cry. He was exhausted and overwhelmed and _so_ worried, and having Alexander by his side, even when for him it surely meant being uncomfortable because of a person that brought him so much suffering, felt _so right_. Aaron wished he wasn’t so selfish and hugged Alexander tightly, burying his face on the crook of his neck and sobbing.

“Aaron—”

“Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“If you were happy about her suffering that would be okay.”

‘ _Maybe for half a second,_ ’ thought Alexander, repressing the urge to roll his eyes, even if there was no one around paying attention to his face. He tightened his hold around Aaron. “How could I, when it would make you this upset?” He shook his head. “Besides, she got hurt for trying to get justice for my mother, in a way. If she died trying I couldn’t be happy. I’d be mad.”

“Only if she failed.”

Alexander grinned and was glad Aaron couldn’t see him. “Well…”

Aaron’s shoulders shook, and it was hard to tell if it was because of his crying, or laughter, but Alexander didn’t dare nor care to guess. He simply stayed there, doing what was needed of him, which was mostly being a human pillow and occasionally talking. He usually thought that time always went too fast when he was with Aaron, but there, on a cold waiting room, surrounded by white unforgiving and unchanging hospital walls, the night felt eternal. He didn’t even drink anything, but he had to use the restroom every so often, if anything just to feel his legs. His phone said the temperature wasn’t even that cold, not for the late hours in the middle of September, but he was freezing in his jacket, and even though he barely walked, his feet were killing him. For someone in his line of work, one would’ve thought he was already used to the strain of uncertainty and inaction, but there was nothing like sitting in a hospital in the middle of the night, even when he wasn’t emotionally invested. He never knew waiting could be so physically exhausting. It helped put some things in perspective. Or maybe not. Maybe it was just the silence that pressed him into overthinking.

And he always ended up thinking that surely for Aaron it was all worse. That was the only reason he felt so happy when a nurse informed them Abigail had waken up around noon, after over twelve hours of sitting in a very uncomfortable chair. He didn’t go in, of course, and he couldn’t go out either, even though Aaron told him it would be okay; even though he had just gone back to work. He stayed, ready to catch the doctor so he would speak to Aaron as soon as possible. And that should be soon. He knew Aaron would exit the room in few minutes. There could be only one person in her room at the time, and despite Aaron’s insistence, SAC Adams let him go first. Aaron didn’t handle that sort of kindness very well, so he would probably leave as fast as he could.

That was, as fast as his heart let him. When Aaron got in, _everything_ ached. In the tall bed, in that excessively white room, Abigail looked so small. She never looked small before. Abigail was all about confidence and elegance and strength in long legs, long arms and long neck. But laying there, with her hair loose and a huge black eye and a scrapped cheek, she looked small. She looked the impossible; she looked vulnerable.

“Aaron dear, hello.”

He had spent fourteen hours swearing he wouldn’t cry in front of her, and yet the first thing he did was burst in tears.

“Come here,” she muttered, extending one long arm that looked so fragile.

He grasped her hand and stood as close as he could, kissing her knuckles and forehead. “I’m sorry,” he sniffed, “but I was so scared.”

“Please don’t apologize. I’m the one who should apologize, for worrying you.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be silly,” he sobbed. “I texted Jeremy, he was here last night and told me he would be waiting by the phone, so he should come soon. Also, Mr. Adams is outside. He made me come first, but…”

“And that was the right call. Now hush.” She squeezed his hand and cupped his face with the other. “I’m glad you’re the first one here. You’re the one that should pick my outfit in case I, you know.” She cleared her throat. “I have that in written. But that didn’t happen, so we can all relax. I can only panic about not being presentable for my wedding. How’s my face?”

“Well,” he smiled, “it has been better.”

She groaned. “I must look terrible!”

He didn’t ask how she was feeling nor what had happened. He didn’t ask if she was worried or scared or hurting. He just stood by her side, smiled at her, and left as soon as she allowed him so Mr. Adams could go in. He still needed to talk to the doctor, after all, and he knew Abigail must have wanted to see him. He’d been the first one on the hospital, and he should’ve been the first one to see her. But then again, if he ever found himself in a situation like that, he would’ve wanted to see Abigail before Alexander. That had been why he hadn’t protested. But she let him go easily, which meant she really wanted to see the man she intended to marry.

The man she loved. Because she loved him. For the first time, in all the years he had known her, Abigail was in love.

And because she loved him, she almost didn’t care he would see her there, a complete mess, for she wanted to see him no matter what. It still affected her the way his face tried to conceal whatever it made him feel.

“Do I really look that terrible?” she tried to joke, but she wasn’t good at it, and her face hurt.

“You look injured.”

Her lips curved down. “Bad, then.”

He chuckled and shook his head on his way to the bed, where he immediately held her hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I took a beating. Which I kind of did, courtesy of some Puerto Rican drug lord,” she sighed, took a better look at him, and frowned. “But what’s your excuse to look like that? Did you sleep in those clothes?”

“I caught a few hours on my car,” he admitted. “It was cold last night.”

“You should’ve gone home!”

John shrugged. “Nah, I didn’t want to be less. Aaron stayed all night too, out here on the hallway.”

“Alone? And you let him?”

“He wasn’t alone,” replied John.

She arched her eyebrows. “Hamilton was here too?”

John smirked. “Of course. He said something about how you couldn’t die before you manage to get Lavien in jail.”

She narrowed her swollen eyes that already had been almost closed. “He didn’t say that.”

“No, he didn’t. He just said he was here for Aaron.”

She nodded. “That’s good.” She was starting to like that boy, if only a little. He was good to Aaron. And Aaron was better because of him. A little more confident, a little more honest, and a little happier. She could see it on his smile most days, even after the mess of her arrest. Because ever since she met him, a certain melancholy had always clung to his shoulders. She had done her best to eliminate it, but nothing she did seemed to work. The years had helped, but it never left completely. The days he saw Hamilton, that melancholy seemed to decrease even more, and she, she was grateful for that.

She fell asleep soon after that, and John only left her because of the nurse that kept entering and glaring at him. But that was a good thing, because if had left a little later, he would’ve missed the doctor that was already talking to Aaron outside. Because of course he was talking to Aaron, even though he was the patient’s fiancé and Aaron was, to the eyes of the law, her employee. To the eyes of anyone with a brain, he was her son.

 “She’s not actually out of danger, is she?” had just asked Aaron.

The doctor pursed his lips. “She’s not going to be the same as before. One of her lungs is working with less than half the capacity it should and it’s not going to regenerate any time soon, so she’s going to get tired far more easily, and colds will be hell. But she can still have a long life, if she’s careful.”

Aaron would make sure of that, then. One could see it on his face. It made John smile, which probably looked out of place, judging by the look Hamilton gave him.

“Are you going to postpone the wedding or something?” asked the agent.

John shook his head. “She should be fine three weeks from now, at least to walk down the aisle. We’re not throwing a big party nor anything.” Or at least, that was the plan. One of the guests had objected, but it wasn’t their wedding, so he would ignore it. He would try to ignore it. He would conserve the decorations Abigail had already picked, and he would insist on the menu and music she had chosen. But his suit, and his shoes, and other details she had overlooked, were left for him to agonize over and consider, just for a moment, to listen to his friend’s suggestions.

Then he remembered he had more than one friend and went to him for advice, because he was pretty sure not even his socks were adequate.

“Are you sure about this, John?” asked Thomas, soft and personal, because he wasn’t there accompanying his boss, but was there as a friend (which he was), and fabric’s connoisseur (which he wasn’t, but he was better than Adams). “You’ve barely known her for a little over a year.”

“How long did you wait before asking Martha to marry you?”

“Three years, and we had the excuse to be young and stupid then.”

“And don’t you wish you’ve had more time together? Don’t you ever wish you’ve had married her sooner?”

Thomas leaned back and crossed his legs at his ankles. “You’re not sure you’ll be able to protect her, are you?”

“I’m going to try. And this is one of the few things I can do to protect her somehow.” He stood up. “Thank you for being here, Thomas.”

“Don’t thank me, I couldn’t let you go with that horrendous tie. But how come I’m your best man, and not Benjamin?”

“You’re not my _best man_ , you’re my witness. And Benjamin couldn’t for… reasons.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway…”

Thomas chuckled and patted him on the back. “I won’t ask. I probably don’t want to know anyway.” The man had a reputation, after all, and he’d heard enough stories that were more than embarrassing for the bureau and that he would’ve rather not knowing.

“He asked me not to tell the guests,” he sighed, “because he wanted it to be a surprise, but honestly? I think that’s stupid.”

Thomas asked one eyebrow. “Is he officiating the wedding?”

John nodded. “I didn’t ask him to. We wanted something small and simple, just stand there, say yes and maybe have a toast. We have like ten guests. But Benjamin, he’s…” he shook his head, “he’s not going to let us get away with that. So that’s why I’m afraid I have to ask,” he took a deep breath, “could you lend me Mary to bring the rings?”

“I already hired the nanny. You’ll have to pay her fee for cancelling so soon.”

“Isn’t she your neighbor? Isn’t she just in high school?”

“She has a very serious and legitimate business, John. Don’t underestimate her. I need to cancel within three days or earlier. Otherwise, I have to pay seventy percent.”

“And you agreed to that?”

“John, she sees two girls for like twenty bucks and lives a block away, of course I agreed to that. I have a boyfriend. I need a nanny.”

“You’re bringing him to the wedding, right? I’ll finally meet him.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes. Of course I’m bringing him to the wedding. Now shut up and try to find a matching silk handkerchief.”

Of course he was bringing James. Couples are supposed to go to that sort of thing together. Even when one is close to the newlyweds, it’s basic survival to bring someone to talk and dance with, to make most of the night. With a smaller event it might be easier to get away with going alone, but even Aaron knew that no matter how short the whole thing was, he would be uncomfortable at some point, even if Maria and Eliza tried to include him. But he never entertained the idea of bringing Alexander, he didn’t even see him that day because he had a job late the day before so he stayed at his own place.

That was why he was so surprised to see him there anyway, looking gorgeous in a dark suit.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” said Aaron, not even trying to conceal his astonishment.

“I didn’t want to come, to be honest,” admitted Alexander, “but then I realized you’d be wearing something like this,” he roamed a hand down Aaron’s arm and rested another on his chest, “and I couldn’t miss it. You look amazing.”

Aaron grinned, circling Alexander’s waist with an arm. “Yeah? I’m flattered. And you look quite handsome yourself.” He pressed their foreheads together and whispered: “Really, thanks for coming.”

Alexander kissed him. “Stop thanking me for being a decent boyfriend. You make me feel bad.”

“Oh, Alexander, you’re better than decent. You’re… adequate.”

“Shut up.”

Aaron laughed loudly. “Come on, I think we have to come in. It’s about to start.”

“Well, this should be fun…”

At first he thought Alexander simply said that because it was Abigail’s wedding, but he noticed with increasing concern that he looked, indeed, excited about something on the front. He followed the direction of his gaze, and noticed the man talking to Mr. Adams was familiar to him.

“Who’s the man officiating the ceremony?” asked Aaron in a whisper.

“Agent Franklin, famous for his… parties, but don’t worry, I’m sure Adams won’t allow this to turn into an orgy.”

“What?!”

“He’s his best friend. Adams _had_ to let him officiate. The same goes for Franklin about not ruining it. That is, unless your boss didn’t mind…?”

“Of course she would!”

“Fine, fine…” he giggled.

Thankfully, Alexander was right, and Benjamin didn’t try to ruin the party; he just did a beautiful service, a little cheesy but elegant and appropriate for someone like Abigail, and then redirected them to the food and ballroom, where he finally found Maria. They hadn’t been able to meet in a while, since she only had gotten back from her vacation the day before, and they were almost late to the ceremony.

Almost right away, Alexander stole Eliza so she could play something because there was a piano and the music was not the best, so Aaron was left alone with his best friend in a corner far enough from the bar that no other guest came to interrupt them.

“Maria, you look beautiful!”

“Thanks, the dress is Eliza’s. Can you believe she only wore it once, for a concert in Prague?” She did a twirl. “And it fits me just fine!”

“Indeed, it does.”

“And thank God it did, for I didn’t have enough time to go shopping! I barely made it!” She sighed and hooked his arm in hers. “Alright, what did I miss? How’s everything going? Is there any new gossip? I see Abigail’s still out of jail. Do you think that will change?”

“That’s right, you don’t know about the trial… well, no, she’s not going back. She’s helping put a bigger fish in jail. And that almost got her killed.”

“What?”

Aaron didn’t know why he had said that. Maybe he had wanted to see if he could joke about it, maybe it was that he hadn’t known how to tell her sooner, or maybe it simply was that he wanted to get it done. He wanted her to know, he knew he had to do it in person, but at the same time he didn’t want to talk about it. At all. Because it still was all too recent, and he was still afraid, and because Abigail never talked about it so he didn’t feel like he could do it. But Maria had been one of the three employees—including Aaron—that had been invited to her wedding, so he figured that meant she ought to know.

“I can’t believe my boss almost died and no one told me,” grumbled Maria, wearing a deep frown.

Aaron rolled his eyes and sat down on the closest table, opening another chair for her. “How was Italy?”

“You should’ve called me!”

“Your trip had just started! Besides… the situation was… delicate. It has to do with the case. We needed to be discreet.”

Maria pursed her lips. She still looked angry, still _felt_ angry, but she understood that, a little. Besides, she was just an employee. Sure, Abigail was nice, and she had shared just a tiny bit more with her since she visited Aaron from time to time and she’d been helpful after she was attacked, but she didn’t think she was particularly important to Abigail. It wouldn’t have been her place, outside her room while she was still fighting for her life. Her good wishes and thoughts might have been appreciated, but not her presence.

“Okay. Now you’ll have to dance with me.”

“What?”

“Dance with me!” She grabbed his hand and dragged him to the middle of the room, which wasn’t large, and considering there wasn’t more than fifteen people there, including the band and a few waiters, that was saying. A bigger ballroom would’ve looked ridiculous. Instead it just looked nice, elegant even, with the color scheme that Abigail had very smartly chosen. And in that room, he didn’t dance the way he would with a client. He placed his hands on Maria’s hips and he twirled her around, and he didn’t care so much about his technic as he cared about the conversation he was having with her, and about laughing, and about comparing that to their usual jobs. He later explained that to Alexander as he danced with him, which was different too. It was different because it was personal and close and because he knew the body under the suit like he knew very little things. And because they kissed in the middle of the dancefloor and that was okay.

And then, when he danced with Abigail, he went a bit slower, and a little more solemn, but it was enjoyable nevertheless. And he almost hoped the night wouldn’t end, even as the room started to get empty, they kept swinging on their feet.

“I’ll have to go under the radar for a little while,” she confessed. “I won’t be able to send you many pictures of my honeymoon.”

Aaron chuckled under his breath, a little nervous. “How long?”

“That’s unclear too. And it won’t be right away. But listen…”

Aaron listened, and he listened some more, because he could hardly believe it. He listened while she explained her plan, he listened while she complimented him, and he listened while she told him what she wished for him. He listened while she stood a foot away, he listened while she leaned in, and he kept listening while she pulled him into a tight hug, even as he hugged her back. He listened, and once she was done, he just said: “Are you sure about this?”

Her smile grew even wider. “Yes, Aaron, I am. I am more than sure.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Good luck. And I love you.”

“I love you too,” he mumbled, feeling a little stiff and shaky. They were the only ones left inside, aside from Agent Franklin and Agent Adams, but he could see Alexander outside talking to Jefferson and another man. He imagined how the conversation would go, after he told Alexander what Abigail had just told him, and he laughed out loud, deciding that news could wait until they were alone in bed.

֍

One of the things Aaron liked the most about his apartment was his bed. There was nothing wrong about Alexander’s, it was just that Aaron’s was bigger, and softer, and his sheets were nicer too. He also had several more pillows, which seemed to be an inflexion point for them, because Alexander didn’t, in fact, like those. But the point remained that if he didn’t like them, he could just put them away. There was no such solution for Aaron when they were at Alexander’s place, with an important deficit of pillows. He had tried bringing some from the living room once, and it had been a disaster. Nowadays he just endured it. But late at night, after a tiring day, and with geography on his side, he had managed to drag Alexander along to his place after Abigail’s wedding.

“You’re what?”

“Manager partner, in her absence.”

“She gave you her company?” said Alexander, shocked out of his mind.

“Just a part, and I’m taking over while she’s away. But if she dies, then yes. She’s leaving it to me. And then made a joke about how I won’t be able to reject this inheritance.”

Alexander snorted and shook his head. “That woman is insane. I swear if they come after you because of her…!”

“They shouldn’t. I’m just a worker she trusts with her business, that doesn’t mean I’d know where she’s going. Besides, she honestly won’t tell me.”

“I still think it’s dangerous.”

Aaron wanted to argue, but he knew that would take them nowhere. He also understood that Alexander’s fears didn’t come from all the evidence that supported him, but his own painful experiences. So he held his hands in his and gave him a soft peck on the lips. “I’ll be careful. And… if you really want to make sure I’m safe every night, maybe you could… move in with me?”

After he spent twelve hours on a cold chair in the middle of the night for that woman three weeks ago, he had started to feel less conflicted about spending time at Aaron’s apartment. Alexander still hated that woman, even if she’d helped them at the end, even if she had been crucial to make a case against Lavien. He couldn’t just admit her redemption. But Aaron’s apartment was _Aaron’s_ , even if she helped him get it. The furniture, the kitchen, the sheets and the plants were all Aaron, and Alexander used to feel comfortable there. He squeezed the hands that were holding his, and joined their lips again, far more urgently that time.

“Okay,” he gasped once they separated.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I want to live with you.” He licked his lips. “And I mean, now that you sort of own the company that helped you buy your place, there’s no point in stressing over it.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, but he was too happy to argue with that logic, and was too happy to have all his pillows and his boyfriend on the same place. He was happy, even as he fell asleep thinking of what people would say of that arrangement. He didn’t have many enemies, or so he thought, but he didn’t have that many allies either, and he was sure more than one wouldn’t be too happy to hear that he would be taking over on Abigail’s absence.

“I can’t believe you’re my boss,” said Maria the next day, who was perhaps the only one on the building who would be genuinely happy for him.

Aaron shrugged one shoulder awkwardly. “I’m surprised too. I—”

“No, I’m not actually surprised. I mean, I always knew Abigail would leave the company to you, I just didn’t think it would be so soon!”

Aaron didn’t know what to say to that, because he never had even considered it to be a possibility. Sure, Abigail didn’t seem to have any family, but now she even had a husband. And there had been others before, friends like Bentham, people that knew her years before Aaron came to her life. She had grown to become a pillar for Aaron, but surely, he wasn’t the same for her, not as to leave him her company, not when he wasn’t, by far, the most prepared one for such a job.

He wasn’t prepared at all for such a job.

He wasn’t an idiot, and Abigail had gotten him through college after years under her care, using many excuses and never telling him why. He refused to believe that had been her plan all along, especially because the few classes he’d taken on economics when he was eighteen meant nothing in the real world, with a functioning business he was a part of but still knew nothing about. He couldn’t do it. He knew he couldn’t do it. He checked his schedule, saw that he had events already for every day for the months that were left of the year, and felt the urge to cry.

He genuinely didn’t know what he was doing.

֍

_He wasn’t sure who had left first; if it had been the clients or the workers. But the point stood that he was alone, up in an office with red walls and a red ceiling, and he was alone. There was no one left. But Maria. She was by the door, and she looked upset, and was saying something about leaving too. He tried to convince her to stay, but she said something about him screwing up and how disappointed she was on him._

_He ran after her, but when he left the office, he was on his living room, and Abigail was on the kitchen, wearing her beautiful wedding dress. He hair was loose though, like it had been on the hospital, and her face looked almost as gaunt as then, minus the black eye._

_“Abigail?” he asked._

_“I thought… I thought you’d know what you were doing, Aaron. Because you always look like you know what you’re doing, but…” she shook her head and then he was inside the kitchen with her, except it wasn’t his kitchen, it was Alexander’s. “I was wrong.”_

_“I told you I couldn’t do it,” he cried._

_“No,” she frowned, “you never told me such a thing, you merely asked me if I was sure! You should’ve been more open with me, Aaron! You should’ve told me you couldn’t do it!”_

_“I’m sorry!”_

_“It’s too late to say you’re sorry! You ruined everything, Aaron! You and your boyfriend ruined my life!”_

_Aaron felt sick to his stomach, and he felt angry. What right did she have to be angry at Alexander? She had ruined **his**_ _life first! He tried to yell at her, to grab her arm and yell at her, but she slipped out of his reach, and no matter how hard he tried to scream, no sound came out. It was as if his throat had closed._

_And with that thought, no air reached his lungs either._

Aaron woke up gasping for air and feeling cold, scared and vulnerable. Agitated, like he hadn’t in a while. Terrified. He almost had lost the habit of waking up from a nightmare, because he rarely had them when he slept with Alexander.

“Aaron?” Alexander sat, while one hand blindly patted around his nightstand to find his glasses. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Yeah… I’m fine, I just had a nightmare.”

Alexander seemed concerned. “Do you want to tell me what it was about?”

Aaron snorted. Compared to the things that used to torment him at night, it had been pretty mild. “Basically, I drove the agency to bankruptcy, and Abigail hated me.”

“You had a nightmare… about doing a bad job.”

“I don’t know anything about running a company, Alexander! What was she thinking?”

“Didn’t Abigail make you get a BA a couple of years ago?

“Yeah, but I don’t remember anything!”

“Okay… okay, how about I get you a glass of water and then we try to get some more sleep for the night? We can talk about it in the morning. Maybe you could go through whatever books you had to read. Maybe we could check online…”

Aaron shook his head. “I’m busy tomorrow. I have to meet with Jeremy and he’s going to walk me through some of it, but…”

“That’s good, I’m sure he’s going to help you as much as he can.”

Aaron nodded. He was sure of that too, he just didn’t know how much that could be. But he drank the water Alexander handed him, and then he managed to get some more hours of sleep. He managed, because Alexander was draped over him like a candy wrapper, and it was impossible to feel scared like that. It was almost too hot, but it was also almost November, so the temperature of the room made it bearable, and he slept. He slept like the dead and had no more dreams for the rest of the night. He had no more dreams for the rest of the week, and then the month that followed, he didn’t think he could remember if he ever dreamt something. Sometimes he would wake up agitated, but he coped, and Alexander never once stayed working late, just so he could be holding him every night.

And Aaron valued that, of course. He valued it like valued Maria’s presence in his life, or pillows. Well, more than pillows. But he started to fear if that would be the only way to go through his day for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t complain of his human blanket, but he imagined Alexander would, eventually. And that thought only terrorized him further. But because he was still a coward, he didn’t say anything about it. He just let Alexander hold him, and he held him in turn every night and morning—and the occasional afternoon. And some days he kissed him like there was no tomorrow, and others he did like they had eternity for themselves, and there was no pattern to decide which one he was one the mood for until he had Alexander under him—or on top of him, it felt just as right. All the incentive he needed was to have Alexander do something, and he would feel the need to reward him. It could be a compliment, or he could take a detour after work and bring chocolate cake, or he could make an overelaborated breakfast, or even a particularly bright smile could get Aaron to feel the need to pull him in for a kiss and not let him go until he had no other option.

But that meant he would need to come up with new ideas to reward him whenever Alexander would do extraordinary things. He should’ve thought of that in advance, but he only noticed his mistake once it was already too late, one Saturday afternoon after lunch.

“What’s that?” he asked, after Alexander dropped an envelope next to him.

“That is a letter. I hope you don’t mind that I already read it. I mean, I know it says it’s for you, but you weren’t waiting for it, I was, so…”

“Alexander…”

“Just read it.”

Aaron did, twice, but he ended up without a clue of what that meant. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, I hope you forgive me, but I didn’t have the time to convince you. The deadline for the application was on November first. You start in January. If you want to go, of course. But anyway, you were admitted.”

“But I never even took the GMAT. How…?”

“The EMBA program at NYU doesn’t need it. Their average of years of experience for their students are like, 14. If you want you can read all about the program online. But you already were admitted, believe it or not. And I guess you should read the two essays I wrote that were supposed to be from you. But that was the only thing I had to forge, I swear.”

“Alexander…”

“You were worried about not being prepared. Well, then do something about it. I know you have the capacities it takes. Classes are on Fridays and Saturdays.”

Aaron covered his mouth with a hand and reread the letter once more, too confused to say anything yet.

“I’m sure you’re going to do an amazing job, Aaron. With, or without an MBA. But I don’t want you to wake up in the middle of the night because you’re afraid you might screw up. Abigail knew other people who could’ve taken over, and yet she _chose_ you.”

“Abigail is going to come back eventually. I need to make a job better than good. It has to be perfect!”

Alexander had used the word ‘ _amazing’_ , which was definitely better than good, but he didn’t point it out. Instead he just said: “And it will be, I’m sure.” He squeezed his hand and dropped a kiss on his knuckles. “You can do it. She knows you can do it. I’m sure she’s relaxed wherever she is, because you’re in charge. You can do it. Also, I got her to write you a recommendation letter. You can read it too.”

That was perhaps the most incredible part of all that unbelievable situation. He licked his lips and hugged him tightly. “Thank you.”

“Didn’t I told you to stop thanking me for being a decent—?”

“Shut up.”

It looked like Alexander would keep talking, so Aaron decided to shut him up in the most efficient way he knew when it came to the Special Agent: he joined their lips, tangled his fingers in his hair, and dragged him down to the bedroom, where he would tell him in all sorts of ways how grateful he was that they had found each other.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took me longer than I thought it would... sorry about that... hehe (?  
> I really want to thank all of you who have read this far, those that found it back at the beginning or in the middle or just a few hours ago. This was a long ride, but I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoyed reading as well.
> 
> Also, I'm not saying a person absolutely needs an MBA to run a business. My mom doesn't have one and she's amazing at it (although she is an accountant... but anyway)... But the ending is more about calming Aaron down in the only way Alexander knows how, reassuring him that even if he doesn't feel like he can do something, he has options to make himself capable.
> 
> Soo... that was all, friends! Have a nice life!


End file.
